


Temporary Mistake, Permanent Fix

by ChappytheBunny



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 138,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2024142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChappytheBunny/pseuds/ChappytheBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mistakes happen. A slip of the tongue, a broken glass in the dishwasher, or an embarrassing typo in the middle of a text message. They're small hindrances to everyday life, yet they can all be fixed by either an apology, a dust pan, or an asterisk. There is one thing -- and only one -- however, that Levi has never considered to be a mistake, and that is a tattoo. It's not because he's been a tattoo artist for over a decade, and it's not because he's owned his own tattoo shop for half of that. It's because he's a man who lives by the past and believes in its importance. So, why? Why erase something that, at one point in time, you wanted to be a part of your body forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunrise, Sunset

If there's one thing I dislike more than cold coffee or car taxes, it's mornings. I have never been, and never will be, a morning person.

And I'm not gonna lie, people have argued with me on this. "Oh, but isn't the way the sun filters in through the window blinds so pretty?" No. The sun doesn't filter. A fish tank filters. The sun forces its way into your humble abode and tickles your eyeballs whether you want it to or not. "But, Levi! You're an artist! How can you possibly deny the beauty of a sunrise?" Correction: I'm a  _tattoo_  artist - still an artist, but of a different breed - and the answer is simple, really.

I find beauty in  _sunsets_.

Have you ever taken a minute to Google the words "sunrise" and "sunset"? If not, I guarantee you there's a difference. Sunrises are  _bright_ ,  _too_ bright, to the point of nearly blinding - but, hey, if that's what you're into first thing in the morning, then I'm not one to judge. Onto the the overall appearance of a sunrise, it's  _okay_ , but if you ask me, the colors and the clouds are actually pretty weak. I'm going to go all out and call them  _dull_.

And then there's sunsets. Deep, rich hues of reds and oranges and purples. Soft tones of smooth and murky shadows. It's the perfect triumph of the day, but it's also the sweet surrender to the night. But the best part is that it's like a gift from the world, after putting up with all of the crap that it's made you face throughout the day. It's like the sky is saying, "Here you go. You did good today. Take a minute to sit back and relax."

And relaxing is what I  _would_ have been doing if the morning sun wasn't scraping against my eyelids.

Ever since I moved into this small, studio apartment, I've never had to keep an alarm. Why be awoken by the power ballad of an electronic nightmare, when your pupils can be poked and pierced by a medium-sized star? Hey, it's not a secret that I find sunrises unpleasant, but alarm clocks are even worse.

That's when, as I do every Godforsaken morning, I curse my existence and roll out of bed. I barely have to take a step before I'm in the den, and with a turn of my right heel, I'm already in the bathroom. Yeah, when I said my apartment was small, I wasn't kidding.

Because I'm usually running about five minutes late, it's a rare occurrence for me to actually stop and  _think_  like most people do when they're in the shower. I hardly have time to run shampoo through my hair, let alone make a detailed schedule for the next twelve hours of my day. But for whatever reason, this morning, I was actually five minutes  _early_.

So, I took my time - time that I was legitimately grateful to have - as I slid my soapy fingers along the dips and curves of my arms and legs. It had been a while since I'd had the chance to enjoy what it felt like to touch myself, and not in self-pleasuring way. Just smoothing my hands up and down my dampened limbs, tracing the curls and the definition of my ink, it made me feel oddly at ease.

But five minutes was five minutes, and although it was good to have extra seconds on the clock, I had to use them wisely.

After my brief shower, I dried off and threw the towel into the hamper. I'd probably have to do a load of laundry later, but that was "future" me's problem. What "present" me needed to focus on was getting dressed and getting out the front door before my neighbors took their three kids off to their range of sporting events. I mean, God bless those kiddies for taking an interest in my inked-up skin rather than making a break for the hills, but now wasn't the time for all of the open-ended questions that came with having as many tattoos as I did. I was already running late again. Oops.

Just as I was about to peel out of my parking spot and push the limits of legality, I remembered that I'd left the credit card that I used  _exclusively_  for my morning coffee back on the kitchen counter. Why I'd taken it out of my wallet in the first place, I really didn't know. That was a question for "past" me. Groaning irritably, I shifted the gear shaft into reverse and comprised that I'd just have to tough it out and use the rusty, old coffee pot that the last shop owner had left behind, the same pot that Hanji uses for her own coffee fix every three hours. With how often she uses it, and the fact that she hasn't died from an incurable disease by now, I'd have to say that it's  _probably_  safe, but not recommended.

Because I'm late, but not as late as I  _usually_ am, I get caught up in all of the red lights. Literally  _all_ of them. Just when I think I'm about to make it through a stale green light - nope. Yellow. Red. Of course it's annoying, but it also allows me to pick up from where I left off in the shower. And no, I don't mean touching myself, but  _thinking_.

I've been a tattoo artist for almost eleven years now, and I've owned a shop of my own for about five. I didn't always want to become a  _tattoo_  artist, per say, but art itself has always been a fascination of mine for as long as I can remember. Drawing, painting, the sheer freedom of  _creating_  something that wasn't there before. In an egotistical sense, being an artist is like being a god.

When the light turned green, my thoughts began to dissipate. My brain was focused on only my commute until,  _shockingly_ , another stale green became a stagnant red. Tapping my thumb against the steering wheel, I sighed through my lips and figured I'd do some more thinking.

In grade school, when I told people that I wanted to be an artist when I grew up, I was praised for my creativity and applauded for my individuality. In high school, when people discovered that art was my passion and I planned on pursuing it, I was belittled for my lack of maturity and mocked for my negligence to reality. That's when I began to doubt myself. Art was everything I had known since the day I'd stuck my hand in a jar of finger paint and began doing what felt  _right_  to me. Was I going to have to relearn my life? Could I reinvent myself into something that society would deem suitable? I didn't know, and I didn't _want_  to know. I didn't know what to do.

In college, I met Hanji.

She was annoying from the second she opened her big, fat mouth and spat in my face, because she was blathering too excitably. She wouldn't shut up about her life experiences and how she was so happy to make a new friend on campus - I  _wasn't_ her friend. Also, I'd never asked for her to share her whole life's story with me. That is, of course, until she said something that piqued my intrigue.

She was an art major.

As someone who had still labeled themselves as "undecided" at the time, I instantly switched from tuning her out to listening to her irritating voice with the volume turned all the way up.

She spoke wildly about art and how much it had done for her throughout the years. She told me that when she was little, her parents never lectured her for drawing on the walls or getting paint stains on the carpets. In a split second, she had gone from a person that I had wanted to distance myself from entirely to a someone I wanted  _everything_  to do with.

If it hadn't have been for Hanji, I probably wouldn't have given art a second, much needed chance. And looking back on it, she was also the person who coaxed me into getting my very first tattoo. I owed a lot to Hanji, a lot more than I'd originally thought. She may have been the most exasperating woman I have ever met, but it's our common outlook on life that makes her the only person I have ever comfortably called a friend.

I can still remember that conversation we'd had the week before we'd graduated. We were sitting in Hanji's dorm room, just shooting the breeze and sipping our energy drinks, when she asked me something kind of unexpected.

"Levi, what's your biggest dream? What's something that you've  _always_ dreamed of doing?"

For some, it might have taken them a good, long while to come up with something remotely cliche to such a vast question, but for me, this was something that I'd put a lot of thought into, and I'd had my answer clear in my mind and on the tip of my tongue.

"I want to paint the town."

At first, Hanji was confused by what I'd meant by that statement. She was under the assumption that I wanted to paint where we lived on a display for all to see, not that I secretly wanted to bathe the entire city in rich tones of reds and golds - just as a sunset bathes the daylight sky. It wasn't until I'd explained myself that she seemed genuinely determined to make my dream come true, and after a minor run-in with the law for using an abandoned bank building as our first canvas, she proposed an idea that had never even occurred to me before. Why focus on painting the buildings of the town, when you can paint the  _people_  of the town?

So, I guess that's how I decided to become a tattoo artist.

By some unknown deity, the last light on my way to the shop ended up turning green the moment my foot began to hover over the brake, which forced me to take back what I'd said about literally  _all_ of the lights being red. Most - definitely most - but not all. And so, pulling into thick gravel of the unfinished parking lot had never felt so good. The day hadn't even begun yet, and I was already exhausted. Just great.

When I stepped out of my car, I suddenly realized that I had no idea what I was even wearing. I remembered getting dressed, but I couldn't remember the outfit I'd chosen for the life of me. When I looked down, I could see that I'd thrown on something totally basic - just a grey v-neck and some dark-wash jeans. I had to work, after all. I wasn't going to be wearing my favourite cardigan and a brand name tee when the threat of getting them stained with ink was always there. I'm clean and cautious with my skill, but accidents happen.

It soon dawned on me that I'd parked myself right next to Hanji's car. If she was already here, that must have meant that she'd already opened up the shop, so I don't even bother looking for my keys. The door had been unlocked and I wandered right on in.

Hearing what sounded like a lot of fumbling and fiddling around, I had half a mind to ask Hanji what the Hell she was doing, but the other half was telling me to get some coffee down my esophagus and pronto. Before I could even make it to the back room where the coffee pot was, though, I saw Hanji's head pop up from behind the counter like she had turned into a whack-a-mole of some sort. "Oh, hey! You're finally h-"

"Don't talk to me yet."

I'm a harsh man. Subtract caffeine and I become your worst nightmare. By telling Hanji that I didn't want her to open her mouth for the next ten minutes was legitimately the only way I could spare her from my sleep deprived wrath and she knew that, so she happily obliged.

With that, I hobbled sluggishly into the back room and made a direct stride for the coffee maker. It took three attempts of trial and error, but once I finally figured out how to work the untrustworthy thing, I had a cup of coffee in my hands and a somewhat satisfied palette. "Okay, hi."

"Hi!" Hanji giggled, leaving me baffled by how she could be in such a good mood this early in the morning. Maybe she was an alien. To be honest, I've thought about it before. "You're late, you know."

"I'm  _always_  late." Did she really need me to remind her of that?

"Yeah, you've got a point. Anyway, while you were in the back, we received a call from that girl who had an appointment today."

"Oh, yeah?" Well, that could have only meant one of two things. Either they were going to be late (which would make me a hypocrite to hold against them), or they wanted to cancel, and something told me that it was the second one.

"Yeah, she sounded like she wasn't sure she wanted to go through it with. She said that she was afraid that getting a tattoo might be a mistake."

Nothing ground my nerves more than when people referred to their tattoos as a mistake. I could rant for hours on end about how people should appreciate the decisions of their past rather than feeling resentment toward them, but to save Hanji the burden of hearing me say all of the things that I've vented about to her before, I stalked back into the back room and brewed up another cup of coffee. This day was off to a wonderful start.

That girl had been the only client scheduled for today, and unless we tended to any walk-ins, it was going to be a very long and agonizing wait until lock up. And so, Hanji and I tried to remain hopeful, but who were we kidding? Walk-in customers were rarer than having an extra five minutes in the morning.

By the time our lunch break had rolled around, our hopeful attitude had turned sour. By the late afternoon, we'd grown so stricken with boredom that we began offering to give each other new tattoos. And by the time we put away all of our tools and sanitized our work stations (even though they didn't  _need_ to be sanitized), we were reluctant to realize that we hadn't received an ounce of revenue for the entire day, and that...wasn't good. Owning a business isn't cheap, and when said business goes a whole day without raking in some form of income, it's scary.

"I'm going home." I was the first to say it, but I knew that Hanji was the first to think it. Today had sucked and we were probably going to go into debt because of it, so why stick around to watch it happen? It wasn't like anyone was going to...

Like a symphony created by the miracle of angels, the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires had Hanji and I snapping our heads up at each other, before quickly turning our attention toward the door. Just moments after we'd been staring intently at the knob that hadn't been budged all day long, it twisted open.

"Hey, are you guys already closed?"

If I could have used one word to describe the young man that just walked into my shop, I would describe him as the freaking  _sunrise_.

His clothes were drab and pastel, probably the least attractive thing I'd seen in a while. By no means a stranger to bearing tattoos, he appeared to have a neck and an wrist tattoo that had both been inked in so delicately that they were hardly even noticeable. But that wasn't even the worst part. For the love of God, it was his  _eyes_. They were the strongest shade of amber I had ever seen that I nearly felt like I was being violated by the sun itself. He was, by every angle of his being, the sunrise, and if Hanji hadn't been the one to answer him first, I probably would have told him to get out.

"Yes, yes!" she beamed, and before I knew it, I had witnessed a double sunrise. Wonderful. "We close in about fifteen minutes, but if you'd like, we can schedule an appointment for you for tomorrow or maybe even the next day. Also, do you have an idea of what you want? For your tattoo, that is. After we lock up, we can sketch out a few samples and show them to you the next time you come in!"

If I didn't know any better, I would have said that this kid looked absolutely thrilled by Hanji's enthusiasm and willingness to help. But I  _did_  know better, and I could tell that he was obviously overwhelmed. Why would he be, though? He's the one who came into my shop looking for a new tattoo, right? Was he intimidated by the fact that there were only two people working here? Did it bother him that he was the only other person in the shop besides its owner and its sole employee? Was he going to turn out to be like that girl who canceled on us this morning? All of these thoughts crossed my mind, but none of them seemed to fit. What was with this kid? Just what exactly did he want?

And then, he finally spoke up. Even his lips were the softest of pinks that it reminded me again of the damn sunrise. But that was way beside the point by now. What he'd ended up saying had left me feeling more insulted than I have ever felt during the entirety of my career as a tattoo artist. It left me feeling so utterly and completely  _disgusted_  to the point nausea...or maybe that was just the coffee from the rusty, old pot.

"I'm actually not looking for a new tattoo. What I want is to get one of my tattoos removed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> And I am back from my short break! It was both eventful and restful, but now I'm ready to get back into writing again! (:
> 
> It feels both refreshing and scary to start something new, so do hope that you'll enjoy this story! If you've come over to this fanfic from "Feathers and Follies" (thank you very much, if you have!), you must have realized pretty quickly that this story is quite different already! Instead of having a story that's written through Eren's point of view, this fanfic is going to be written in Levi's!
> 
> I don't have very much else to say for now other than I hope that you've enjoyed the very first chapter to this new fanfic, and that I'm really excited to be back on track with my writing! Again, if you've started reading this fanfic because you've read "Feathers and Follies", thank you so much for your continued support! (:
> 
> And of course, thank you very much for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	2. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's a man of the dusk, yet he creates the dawn.

You wouldn't insult your grandmother after she's spent hours, maybe even days, preparing and crafting a Thanksgiving Day meal by telling her that the carrots she's cooked are too hard. You wouldn't insult your mother after she's worked for the entire afternoon, re-arranging all sorts of furniture and knick-knacks, by telling her that you don't approve of the way she's decorated the house. And you certainly wouldn't insult your father after it's taken him years of commitment and dedication by telling him that both his pristine and his mint condition baseball card collection is an embarrassment to the entire family. So, why? Why insult an _artist_? Why insult someone who's spent hours inking up your skin, working on a masterpiece that  _you_ wanted in the first place, by asking them to  _remove_  the very work of art they've created?

" _What was that?_ "

If my voice hadn't given a hint to my seething anger, my overall demeanor must have. I caught myself extending my neck forward in a way that suggested malice, as my shoulders went stiff with stifling rage. Did this kid even understand the  _damage_  he'd done to himself by asking such a question. If he didn't, he sure as Hell was about to.

Instead of cowering in fear, I watched his stupid, sunrise eyes slip into a state of confusion. Shifting back and forth between my face and Hanji's, for whatever reason, he didn't seem to be the least bit intimidated by my question. In fact, he was dumb enough to provide a follow up to it. "Uh, I asked if you'd remove one of my tattoos. Do you not do that here?"

_Do you not do that here?_ He was joking, right? It had to be a joke. He couldn't honestly believe that he could just waltz into a tattoo shop, ten or so minutes before close, and request a tattoo removal. A  _tattoo shop_.  _My_ tattoo shop. A place where people  _get_  tattoos, not _remove_ them. And the kicker? "Are you  _trying_  to annoy me?"

"Uh, no?"

He really  _wasn't_  joking.

Hanji's heartfelt attempt to dissolve the tension was a good one, but it was hardly effective. Whilst laughing uncomfortably, she placed a firm hand on my shoulder. Her message was subtle, but I understood that she was silently advising me to get a grip. "Well, you see," she started off slowly, "it's not like we  _don't_  have the equipment to remove tattoos, it's just that we've...never actually done it before."

As he turned his attention over to Hanji, the glimmer of a metallic shine grabbed mine. It must have been the kid's industrial piercing, and even  _that_  was excessively flashy. Damn.

"Well, has anyone ever asked before?" Never in my life have I met anyone more pushy or more dense than this brat. Actually, that's a lie. There's Hanji, but at least she knows my limits and can read into my moods. Speaking with this kid for just under five minutes was the closest I'd ever come to chatting with a monkey.

"Yeah, people have asked," Hanji answered truthfully, "but you see, we've always turned down their request. It's, heh, kind of against our policy to remove tattoos. But if you'd like, we could always ink over your current tattoo and transform it into something totally awesome! We've done that a couple of times before."

Covering ink with more ink was something that I'd never been too keen on doing. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth and riddles me with guilt for degrading someone else's artwork. However, it has always been the alternate option to tattoo removal that we've provided. And for a moment, the kid looked as if he was seriously considering Hanji's offer.

When he brought his hand to the back of his neck, it gave me a better look at what his wrist tattoo actually said.  _Freiheit_ \-- written in simple, cursive script and colored in with a shade of slate grey. If he were anyone else, I would have asked him what it meant. I always liked hearing the stories and the motives behind why people desired to mark up their skin forever, but if by some chance that questionable wrist tattoo was the one this kid wanted to get removed, it was probably better if I didn't know.

"You know, I've honestly thought about doing that," he sighed, "but in the end, I just really want this thing gone. Even if I can't see it anymore, I'll know that it's still there and it'll bother me."

"That's your problem, then. Not ours." It had felt like ages since I'd stepped in and said something, but it was about time someone put an end to this irksome back and forth. "Can't you just get it through your skull already? We said that we don't do removals, and my partner here was even kind enough to offer up a pretty damn good alternative. If you're not going to accept it, then  _get the Hell out of my shop_."

I could have worded that better, sure, but why would I want to do that? This kid  _still_ had no idea how outright  _insulting_ he was being, and not just to me, but to an entire community. He must have been the type of brat who figured everything was reversible and that there was always going to be a quick fix for all of his "mistakes" at the ready. There's just one issue. Tattoos  _aren't_ mistakes, and if he couldn't find it in himself to understand that, then he didn't  _deserve_  the very ink that his skin bore.

At first, he seemed stunned to silence by the way I'd reacted, but of course, that only lasted for about three seconds. After the initial shock wore off, his expression reverted back into that snarky, too-cool-for-school facade, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he said, "I guess that's that, then. Thanks for your time." And with that, the same overhead bell that had announced his unexpected entrance had also alerted his awkward departure.

It took about a minute for either of us to say anything, and as Hanji and I listened to the crumble of the gravel as our one and only customer of the day drove away, I took notice of the fact that her hand was still on my shoulder. It's not like she had loosened her grip; if anything, her grasp had gotten considerably tighter. I must have been so focused on that stupid kid that I hadn't realized it.

"It must have made you kind of curious, huh?" Hanji had been the first to say.

"What do you mean?" It wasn't uncommon for Hanji to spout such nonsense in the middle of interesting situations, but this statement had me particularly perplexed.

"Oh,  _come on_ ," she sighed amusedly. "Don't tell me you're not  _dying_  to know what kind of tattoo he wanted removed. I mean, people don't pester like that for a rose or a star. It must have been something  _really_ embarrassing!"

Finally shrugging her hand away, I rolled my shoulders back and made an attempt at cracking my neck (it'd gone stiff with all of the stupidity that was still lingering in the air). When the tension refused to give, I cussed and headed into the back room to turn off the lights and grab my car keys. Today had been the epitome of bad days, and it was about time Hanji and I went home.

While locking the door to the shop and heading over to our cars, she suggested that we go somewhere for dinner. "I've been hearing good things about that new Mexican restaurant that just opened up down the street. Do you wanna check it out?"

As lovely as a night out with Hanji sounded - both literally and sarcastically - I declined her offer. "I'm not that hungry. Maybe another time."

Scoffing at my excuse, she shook her head and twirled her key ring around her index finger. "Did that guy kill your appetite, or something? Just an hour ago, you were bragging about how you could wolf down three large pizzas if someone slapped them in front of your face."

Twisting the key into the door of my car, I unlocked the vehicle and hopped inside. Just before taking to the ignition, I glanced back over at Hanji. "Like I said, I'm not hungry."

She stopped twirling her keys. "That doesn't make sense."

"You don't make sense. Bye." And with that, I curled my key into the ignition and closed the driver's side door, putting an end to our conversation.

In retrospect, I should have been nicer. Hanji was more than likely just trying to think of something special, something that we could do where we'd be able relax and get our minds off of the horrible day we'd just had. But she and I were different in that aspect. She liked to venture out and socialize after dealing with a stressful situation, whereas I appreciated the freedom to go back to my apartment, break out my paint set, and explore the depths of my mind. The good thing about our friendship was that Hanji _understood_ that. She accepted our diversity and offered a smile and a wave as I pulled out of my parking spot and headed out onto the main road.

I opted against the radio for my drive home. If I was planning to paint, I needed to let my thoughts gather and multiply. I needed them to devour my day and consume my brain to the point of near blackout. Such a strategy may have been extreme to some, but it's how I worked best. I don't paint the masterpiece; I let the masterpiece paint itself.

Back at my apartment, I tossed my shoes into the corner and dropped my keys onto the kitchen counter. _I really needed to paint_. My fingers were practically vibrating with the desire to delve into the reds and the purples, just waiting to be submerged in everything they knew best.

I may be an artist, but I've never used a paintbrush.

Rolling up my sleeves, I quickly located the loose set of bobby pins that I purposely kept around my working station. Slipping them into my hair and clipping back all of the stray pieces of my fringe, my eyes were immediately set on my newest collection of paints. They were unorthodox compared to what I usually used when painting, but they were nothing short of perfect for what my fingers were determined to create.

What baffled me the most was that my hands were instantly going for the jar of yellow paint. Yellow is a color that I paint with sparingly. It's used only for highlights and gentle shadowing. Starting off with yellow as a base color was more than odd, but I didn't falter. I twisted off the lid and I began.

Sliding my fingers across the smooth material of the canvas is a feeling like none other. It's euphoric in a way that elicits tingles of pleasure, sending them rushing straight through my core. This was it. This was the type of relaxation I needed. This was the happy place my heart had been craving. Burritos and tacos from that Mexican restaurant wouldn't satisfy me in the way that painting from my mind could, and it's with that that had me reaching for a pale shade of pink.

My eyes could not comprehend the image of what my fingers were creating, and as I pressed my forearms against the wet paint and caused it to smear and smudge in all the right places, I began to question myself. Never had I felt so inclined to use such a bright palette of colors before, but now that I was in the works of making something wonderful, I couldn't  _stop_...but I hesitated.

Coated with paint and speckled to perfection, my arms were just as magnificent as the canvas before me, but it was when my hand hovered over the jar of slate grey that I realized what I was doing, what I'd  _done_. My fingers recoiled and my mind went blank. I didn't need to think anymore; my thoughts were right there, staring me down and forcing me to accept the truth.

What I'd created was incredible. What I'd created was awful. What I'd created was the grossly gorgeous vision of a summer's sunrise in the midst of warm, golden eyes.

The black paint was right there. As was the purple, the red, the orange, and the green. I could have destroyed that image until there was nothing left but an explosion of color. But that went against my morals. It went against my mindset and my principles, and it was because of my own righteousness that I left the painting exactly as it was.

In the shower, I scrubbed my arms clean of the paint that mocked me, using my fingernails to pick and scrape at the bits that had already started to dry. The _last_  thing I needed was to have my body tainted with the memory of my creation, the memory of...that  _kid_.

It took until that moment for me to realize that I didn't even know his name. I'd spoken with him, argued against him, and Hell, I'd even  _painted_  him, but that didn't change the fact that I still didn't know him by any terms other than "kid" or "brat".

That got me thinking of things I'm pretty certain I did  _not_  want to be thinking about. I began to wonder how old he was, what his passions were, if he had a job that matched them, and how he'd managed to find his way into my shop. It also dawned on me that I had no idea if I'd ever see him again - not that I  _wanted_  to see him again, because it would be perfectly fine by me if I didn't. But then I started to think back to what Hanji had said (a dangerous thing, really). If he wanted to have his tattoo  _completely_  removed instead of simply inked over, it had to be something pretty bad.

Well, damn. She was right. Maybe I  _was_ curious.

Scratching at my skin to get the final remnants of yellow and pink off of it, I tried to imagine what sort of tattoo would be  _so_  mortifying that he'd want nothing to do with it. All tattoos were a work of art, so no matter how disproportioned the image or how askew the lines were, I just couldn't make the connection. I'd have to sleep on it.

It may have been my second shower of the day, but I ended up standing beneath the waters for much longer than my first. Because I hadn't been bound by the clock, I allowed my thoughts to wander into places that, like I'd previously stated, I wasn't entirely sure they should be. Regardless of that disturbing notion, after I'd stepped onto the bath mat and toweled off, I figured I'd grab a quick snack before heading off to bed. Even though I'd told Hanji otherwise, I was still hungry.

Lying on top of the bedsheets, with only the ink that marked up my skin serving as my decency, I rolled onto my stomach and shoved my face into the pillows. Sleep would clear my head of these intrusive thoughts about  _him_. And hey, if I fell asleep now, maybe I'd actually wake up early enough to miss the sun beating against my eyelids.

Yeah, no. That would never happen.

Just the same as every morning, I woke up with a grunt in my throat and a curse word on my tongue. The extra sleep had done me some good for my morning sluggishness, I'll give it that, but it did absolutely no favors for what was going on in my head. Never in my ten-plus years of being a tattoo artist had a customer stuck out in my mind as much as that kid, and it wasn't even because of something positive.

I'd have to remember my coffee credit card this morning, because Lord knows I really needed one.

Dressing myself in a pair of grey jeans and beige v-neck, I almost grabbed the matching beanie that I usually chose to wear with that specific outfit combo, but I stopped myself. Ugh, that kid had been wearing a teal beanie the other night, and now the mere thought of wearing something on my head had me feeling feverish. It was decided. No beanie for me.

In the kitchen - two steps from my bedroom, remember? - I made sure that I had both my car keys and my credit card, before slipping on a pair of shoes and heading out the front door. There was no way in Hell I wasn't going to have my coffee this morning; I was still convinced that the reason why my stomach hadn't been feeling one-hundred percent for the past twelve hours was because of that dumb coffee pot coffee.

Where I purchased my coffee, every employee that worked there knew both my name and my order: dark roast espresso with no sugar and just a hint of cream. It was nice to know that the moment I walked through the front door, my drink was already being made for me. It definitely cut back time on those days when I was running late for work - which was everyday.

"Here's your order, Levi!" the kindly barista announced. "It's a bit chilly this morning, so I made sure to make it extra hot for you."

"Thank you, Petra," I said softly, handed her my credit card in return for the coffee.

After giving it a quick swipe through the receiver, she passed it back over to me and thanked me for my patronage, before admitting, "It was strange not seeing you here yesterday. We were all worried."

"Tch, I wasn't worried..." Auruo muttered into a bag of coffee beans.

Blowing through the spout of the plastic lid before taking a quick sip of the brew, I explained how I'd forgotten my card at my apartment and decided to just drink the coffee from the pot that we have at my shop. "It tasted like garbage compared to this. I swear, I'll never forget my card again. Thanks for the drink."

"No problem! See you soon!"

Now that I actually had some caffeine in me, the commute to the shop wasn't all that bad. I'd hit some red lights here and there, but for the most part, I'd been pretty lucky at snagging the greens. Pulling into the gravel of the lot, I drove over to park next to Hanji's car when I noticed that there was  _another_  car next to hers. I couldn't recognize the make, nor did I realize that we had a client lined up for this early in the morning. Unless, could it have been a walk-in? Well, I was about to find out.

Killing the engine, I got out of the car and, with my coffee in hand, entered the shop. I was immediately able to pinpoint a sound that I was rather familiar with, and that was the sound of Hanji's laughter. But  _why_  was she laughing? And wait...who was she laughing  _with_?

"Hey, Levi! You're late again," I heard her say, as my desire to flip her off grew with each passing millisecond. However, my attention had been drawn over to our guest. He was sitting in one of the waiting chairs. We never overlapped our scheduled appointments, so they were mostly just for show. Looks like they were finally getting put to some good use.

I only mentioned the word "good" until I saw his face.

"What the _Hell_  is he doing here?" I breathed, speaking through my coffee's lid. That kid was lucky I had my caffeine fix with me that day, otherwise I would have kicked his sorry butt right out of my shop. Then again, why hadn't Hanji done that already? And why had she been  _laughing_ with him just a few seconds ago? None of it made any sense.

My question had been intended for Hanji, but my answer had come from the kid himself. Standing from the chair and turning around to give me his full attention, he explained, "I came here to ask you one more time. It's bold of me, and I know that, but you guys are the only  _trusted_  tattoo shop around for miles, so you're kind of my last hope." He paused, and during that pause, he briefly glanced over at Hanji. When she prompted him with a nod, I felt betrayed. "So, yeah. Will you  _please_  remove one of my tattoos?"

Although my default answer should have been to say no, Hanji's stupid seed of curiosity got me thinking again (still a dangerous thing). Just last night, I didn't even know if I'd have the chance to see this brat again, and by some random act of fate, here he was, standing in my shop, requesting me to provide him with the one service that my entire being physically rejected. But now that the seed was inside of my head, planted and growing like a little sprout of doom, I just  _had_  to know what it was. "What tattoo could possibly be  _so bad_  that you've literally driven all the way back over here just to ask me that stupid again? What  _is_  it?"

When I noticed a glint in his eyes, I immediately knew that I'd been conned. I didn't think he was this smart, but he had specifically planned for this moment, knowing full well that I would be so stricken by my intrigue that I would ask him such a thing. And now, he had the perfect response for it.

"Oh, I have no problem showing it to you," he said, with a smile, "but only if you promise that you'll remove it after I do."

There was no way for me to have gotten out of that one. Both Hanji and the brat himself had pulled out a part of me that I would have liked to keep stashed away for the oh, so rare occasions like this one. If there was a tattoo, there was a story behind it.

And  _damn it_ , I wanted to know _his_ story.

" _Fine, I'll remove it_. Just show me your freaking tattoo already."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> Ooh, it looks like Eren's going to get his tattoo removed! But what is it? Why does he want it to be removed so badly? All of these questions will be answered very soon! (:
> 
> On another note, I really enjoyed writing this chapter! It felt really good to briefly express Levi's type of art style through the way that he paints, so I hope you all enjoyed it, as well!
> 
> Something I forgot to mention in my notes on the first chapter was, how many of you actually Googled "sunrise" and "sunset" after Levi mentioned it in the beginning of the chapter? Honestly, if you do Google those two words, there is a big difference!
> 
> Anyways, I think that's enough rambling for me! Once again, I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> And as always, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	3. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twist of blue will give meaning to the edge of black.

I didn't have to look at Hanji's face to understand her shock. I could feel the pure, unadulterated emotion of whoa sifting around the expanse of the shop, crawling up arms and contorting faces. Even I hadn't been expecting my willingness to give. Like we'd explained to this kid last night, he had not been the first client we'd had to request a tattoo removal. However, there was one component that made him unique from all of the others: his request had been the first and likely  _only_ one I would ever accept.

And for what reason? Curiosity? Unsettlement? Desire? Three, mere sentiments that, when separated, can be easily contained. Together, they'd tore into my morals and led me straight to my downfall. Would I regret my decision later? Probably, but that didn't erase the fact that I'd already agreed to his proposition. I felt like an idiot.

What if his tattoo wasn't worth my time? What if it was something he'd "mysteriously" acquired after a drunken night out with his college friends (this kid was in college, right?), or an old band tattoo that no longer held any relevance to him. Those were typically the two genre of ink I would assume to see in this type of scenario, and one-hundred percent of the time, I was correct.

When I finally rallied up the nerve to open my eyes - I had a strange habit of squeezing them shut in irritation - and assess the faces of the two that stood before me, I wanted to punch something. Hanji looked at me as if I'd sprouted ten heads, but that wasn't why my fingers were curling into a fist. It was that  _kid_. His lips had been quirked into the cockiest of smirks, and his narrowed gaze told me point blank that this is what he'd been expecting all along. He didn't have to say a word; his obnoxiously arrogant expression spoke his mind.

_"I knew you'd say yes."_

"Are you going to show it to me, or what?" What little patience I had was already wearing thin, and if this kid had pushed any further against my limits, I would have immediately revoked our little compromise.

With a shrug of his shoulders and a hand to his hip, he had enough gall to openly say, "I mean, I already said that I don't have a problem showing it off, but I feel like I should warn you that, well, it's in a pretty  _intimate_ area."

Intimate? Give me a break. Modesty was a value I'd tossed out the window, the second I'd put down a pencil and picked up a tattoo gun. "I've tattooed Hello Kitty onto a forty-year-old's ass. Wherever your little  _mistake_  is, I'm sure I can handle it."

The moment I'd relayed that memory, I heard Hanji attempting to muffle her laughter with an obscene collection of snorts and snickers. That day had been a day that, regrettably, neither of us would forget soon...if ever.

"Oh, yeah?" he questioned, somehow seeming both intrigued and unfazed. "That must have been a wild afternoon." The kid looked like he had more to say, but he faltered. I watched his eyes carefully as they began to scan his surroundings, up and down, left and right, before ultimately landing back on mine. Why was it that every time this kid looked at me, it was as if he was presenting a challenge? It really pissed me off.

And speaking of things that pissed me off, I hated to admit it, but his golden gaze had me momentarily hooked that I'd failed to notice that his hands were in motion...and where they were going, for that matter.  _South_. While his fingers coiled around the hem of his shirt, twisting the blue of the fabric and edging it up his abdomen, I took note of his lanky midriff.  _South_. Feeling down the length of his core, slowly,  _slowly_ , he began to work at the buttons of his jeans whilst fondling the teeth of the zipper.  _South_. The sound of the metal coming undone and the rustle of fabric being pushed aside would have been my only focus, had his voice not been thrown into the mix. Low and velvety, like he was trying too hard to seduce a thrill out of me, he said, "Sorry to disappoint you, but my tattoo is in a  _different_ location."

When he peeled back the faded navy of his underwear, I swallowed. Damn it. He had me thinking all sorts of disgusting, gag-worthy thoughts, wondering if I'd be seeing  _more_  than I bargained for, before the sharp curve of black ink caught my attention. He progressively pulled down his pants until his proof of puberty began to peek through. Maybe he hadn't noticed, or maybe he just didn't care. Whatever the case, it was about time I'd been given a full, climactic view of the permanent blemish that he so desperately wanted removed.

And damn, was it a beaut.

"What in the  _Hell_  is  _that_?" It was the only thing I felt at ease saying, as I stepped closer to him and crouched down to visually take in all of its glory (if I was the one to be in charge of removing this spectacle, he was going to have to get used to me being up close and personal with him).

Looking down at the tattoo himself, he sighed. "It's a real eyesore, huh? Do you blame me for wanting to get it removed now?"

It wasn't the fact that the tattoo itself wasn't aesthetically pleasing; in fact, the line work was incredibly crisp, and the cursive of the script was shaped to the point of perfection. It was the sheer  _perplexity_  of the tattoo as a whole that had me stumped, because who the Hell was "Jean"and why was there a horse majestically galloping away beneath their name?

He didn't flinch when I brought my hand to the base of his hip, nor did he bat at my touch when I began to stroke the solid color of his ink. For someone who practically bathed themselves in pastels, it was unexpected, yet interesting to see something  _dark_  etched into his sun-kissed skin. Tapping my finger against the intricate loop design that connected the "n" of the name with the tail of the horse, I asked him what I considered to be the only plausible explanation for a piece of work like this: "Were you drunk when you got this?"

At first glance, the kid looked as if he didn't know how to respond to my question. Did the cat finally bite off his hot tongue? No, impossible. Just when I thought I'd had him stunned to silence, he tossed his head off to the side and started to laugh. Well, that was annoying.

He settled down quickly, but the fact that he'd laughed in the first place enticed my features into a scowl. I had every inclination to ask him what the Hell was so funny, but I knew I'd get my answer soon enough. I took him as the type of person who liked to hear themselves talk, and I hadn't been mistaken. What surprised me, however, was the face he was making when my tempered gaze shifted upward to greet his.

I had never witnessed a sunrise more broken, damaged by the weight of the world and crippled by the force of reality. His lips yearned to smile, but the heaviness held them at bay. Even before he'd spoken the words that caused his voice to crack under the pressure, I knew that my accusation had been false.

"Worse. It was worse than being drunk. I was utterly and entirely intoxicated by a disgusting thing called  _love_."

As I rose to my feet, he pulled up his jeans, and fastening both the zipper and the buttons, we gave ourselves some time to process the full picture. This kid was in love -  _was_ \- and he had the lasting mark to prove it. I didn't  _need_  him to fill in the blanks, I wasn't dumb, but I was a sucker for backstories. And from the withered expression that kid had been wearing, hosting it long enough for me to see right through him, I quickly realized two things: the wound was still fresh, and I'd just bought myself a ticket to Dramaville.

The silence must have been slitting his throat, because after he'd fixed the folds of his shirt, he automatically began to massage the base of his neck. "So, uh...we still have a deal, right?" he wondered. It was a wonder in itself how he'd managed to find his voice after stating something so personal. This kid had some thick skin. "You're still going to remove it?"

"Yeah, of course," I sighed, and nestling my hands into the back pockets of my pants, added, "A deal's a deal, right? I already said I'd remove it if you showed it to me, so it's only fair that I keep up on my end of the bargain."

"And even if he said no, I'd be more than willing to do it for you instead!" Hanji, whose presence had nearly been forgotten until she opened up her big mouth, generously offered. "Most people have really dumb reasons for why they want their tattoos removed, like they got them when they were blackout wasted, or they were dared by their friends to do it, but your circumstance is actually pretty understandable. It's not something we've been faced with before. And if you don't mind me asking, was it...a break-up?"

When Hanji gets started, there's really nothing that can stop her. She was entering a territory that was just all kinds of inappropriate for discussion, but hey, what did it matter to her? Hanji was the  _definition_  of inappropriate.

The kid's attention was drawn over to her, and as he continued to play with the prominent ridge of his clavicle, I was able to see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. It was a rough topic, obviously, but he was taking it on like a champ. "Yeah," he said, after clearing his throat. "I got the tattoo when me and my ex were still together. It goes without saying that it's been one of the biggest regrets of my entire life."

"I see..." Hanji spoke sympathetically. "So, was your girlfriend's name Jean?"

Why the kid looked like he was suddenly struggling for words, I really didn't know, but it took him a beat or two, before he was able to say, "Uh, it's pronounced  _Jean_. You know, like, the French way? And, uh, my ex is a guy, so..."

"Oh! Sorry, my mistake! I probably shouldn't have assumed..." Yeah, Hanji. Way to go. Then again, I probably would have assumed the same thing, so I didn't really have the right to judge. But seriously, who the Hell names their kid  _"Jean"_  without expecting them to get beat up in the courtyard behind school at three o' clock in the afternoon?

Waving off Hanji's apology, he flashed her an awkward smile and said, "Nah, it's fine. I don't even know why I corrected you, to be completely honest. He  _hated_  it when people got his name wrong. Heh, would have been nice payback for all of the crap he's put me through."

That kid probably didn't realize that Hanji could have cared less about saying his ex-boyfriend's name wrong, and the fact that she was apologizing was because she'd mislabeled his sexuality. Regardless, he started to fidget when neither Hanji nor I said anything to counter his statement. Seeing him like that was uncomfortable for everyone, but again, he was the one to break the tension by saying something else. "So, now what?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, in need of further specification. "Now what?" could have been in regard to many things. Now what am I going to do with this information? Now what am I going to do about the rest of my day? Now what am I going to do about my cold coffee? Petra had made it especially hot for me, too. Damn.

"Like, about this whole process and stuff," he clarified. "Shouldn't we, I don't know, talk about it?"

With a lazy shrug, I addressed Hanji before I addressed him. "I'll take this. Make sure you watch the phone. We have a few clients with morning appointments today. If any of them cancel, be sure to mark it down."

A short nod and Hanji headed over to the main desk where we kept all of our appointments booked and listed, as well as our all-around daily schedules. Our shop may have been a little roughed up around the edges - Hanji's fault - but hey, at least we were organized.

After that was taken care of and Hanji was occupied, I gestured at the kid for him to follow. "Let's discuss this matter in the back room. It's easier to talk back that." As in, it was more private. Talking about getting a tattoo removed in the middle of a tattoo shop felt like an oxymoron.

Leading him past the chairs and around the equipment, I guided him toward the back of the shop and offered him a seat in one of the old tattoo chairs that Hanji refused to get rid of. She claimed that it was the very chair that sat our first customer, and even though it was tattered and had a nasty rip along the side of it, we simply  _had_  to keep it because of the principle behind it.

"Thanks," he said softly, taking me up on my offer and having a seat. He shimmied around for a bit, trying to get comfortable on a surface that made it physically impossible to do so. And just when I thought he was about to get right into the nitty gritty of our discussion put on pause, he asked, "What made you agree to do this for me?"

His question really shouldn't have taken me by surprise - all this kid spewed was nonsense after nonsense - but it did. "We made a deal. I thought we made that clear earlier."

"Yeah, I know, but I don't know why the idea of my tattoo was so fascinating to you. You could have lived the rest of your life never knowing what it was, and I'm sure you would have carried on just fine."

Sighing irritably, I leaned against the wall where we kept our collection of reject sketches and shook my head. "You're right," I reluctantly agreed, "I would have carried on just fine, but as an artist, I like hearing the stories behind  _why_ people desire to have the tattoos that they do. With you and your annoying adamancy about getting your ink removed, I knew you'd have to have a pretty passionate story, so I caved. It's as simple as that, I guess."

He nodded, before a gentle chuckle shook his shoulders. "Speaking of my 'annoying adamancy', you do know that I was planning on coming back to this shop every day, until you agreed to remove my tattoo, right?"

"That's harassment, and I would have reported you to the police." No, I really wouldn't have.

"Yeah, right." On second thought, maybe I  _would_  have called the police on him. "Anyways, we should probably get down to business now. I have class in under an hour." It would seem that I was right about him being a college student, apparently.

With another sigh, I folded my arms against my chest and agreed to give him the quick rundown of the whole tattoo removal process. Even as I opened my mouth to speak, I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of it. From the moment I'd flipped over that "CLOSED" sign until it read "OPEN" for the very first time, I'd pledged many things to myself. Denying all requests for tattoo removals had been one of those pledges, and yet, here I was, laying down the groundwork for what would certainly be an adventure of a lifetime.

"First things first, you do realize how  _long_ it takes to get a tattoo completely removed, right? This isn't going to be a one or two visit kind of ordeal. You're going to be in and out of my shop for close to, if not over a year."

After an understanding nod, the kid mentioned, "I read something about that online, but it's kind of surprising that it's going to take a year for it to be entirely gone."

"It might even take longer than that," I added. "Tattoo removals really depend on a number of factors, some of them being color, size, and location. Black ink is the easiest to remove, but the size of your tattoo is pretty decent. And seeing as it's on your hip and not on, let's say, your arm or your leg, the location of your tattoo is in your favor. So, in actuality, it's fairly difficult to say how long the complete process will really take. An estimate of over a year just seems like the safest bet."

"Wow..." Was the length of time that it would take scary to him? Was he already having second thoughts? No, that wouldn't be right. Someone as driven as him wouldn't back out over something as inevitable as time. Soon enough, it was with a small nod and a gentle smile that had him saying, "I guess that just means that we'll have to get along with each other for the months to come."

Although I didn't want to admit it, he was right. Having to face someone who you despised for even a minute was unbearable. Having to be flush up against them for hours, hearing them rant about their day and grabbing them tissues if the pain from the gun became too much, would throw me over the edge. We needed to be civil with one another, if this next year was to be a tolerable one. "Yeah, I guess so."

Next came the task of scheduling his first appointment. Because of his classes, finding time for removal sessions was going to be a bit of a hassle, but knowing him, he'd ditch an exam if it meant getting rid of that horrendous horse on his hip. Which made me wonder... "By the way, I get that your ex-boyfriend's name was Jean and all, but why a horse? Did you two meet on a farm, or something?"

Either he was giggling because of my lame guess, or he found humor in the  _true_  meaning behind his tattoo, I couldn't tell. "I, uh... Are you sure you wanna know?"

"Yeah, tell me." I wouldn't have asked if I didn't, right?

Suddenly, the giggles were gone and a look of embarrassment washed over him. It was a look that also seemed to boast a hint of nausea to it, as well. "Okay, we kind of had pet names for each other, you know? Kind of like how most couples do? He used to call me 'kitten', because my eyes reminded him of a cat, I guess. And for me, uh... He was my...stallion."

"For the love of God, I'm going to  _throw up_." That was, by far, the most repulsive thing I had heard all week.

He quickly waved his hands in front of his face, and if I hadn't been so close to coughing up what little bit of coffee I'd actually drank before the rest went bad, I would have thought he was kind of...cute. Well, his embarrassment, at least.

"Ugh, let's change the subject, please!" he pleaded. "Just thinking about it will make me feel like vomiting, too."

It was good to know that he and I were on the same page. I mean, really? Kitten?  _Stallion_? What kind of wild sex were those two having? God, get me a bucket. Still, if a subject change was what he wanted, then I was more than happy to oblige. "On that _wonderful_ note, I think I've pretty much summed up most of what you need to know. You've gotten tattoos before, so you know that pain is obviously a factor. The same goes for removals. Also, don't expect to see immediate results. You probably won't even notice a difference in the ink until your second or third, maybe even your fourth visit."

The kid didn't look too thrilled, after he heard that last tidbit of information. The pain, he must have been expecting, but the delay in visible results? It was a bummer.

Rubbing his fingers along the back of his neck, I got a glimpse at his "Freiheit" tattoo again. This time around, I was just a breath away from asking him what it meant, however, we were cramped for time and I didn't feel like creating a truant today. Not on a Tuesday.

"Well," he began, eyeing me from where he sat, "I guess all that's left is for me to schedule an appointment, huh?"

"Well, yeah," I affirmed, as I eased my back off of the sketch wall, "but there's something else, too."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Closing in on him in a manner that appeared more predatory than intended, I looked down on him questionably as I, once again, slipped my hands into the back pockets of my jeans and cocked my head to the side in inquiry. "Your name. You still haven't told me what it was."

"Oh, well that's easy," he said, rising into a stand to counteract my intimidation. Now that  _he_  was the one looking down on me, the challenge was back and his expression grew fierce. I only asked for his name, not a battle. Then again, my accidental ferocity may or may not have been the stimulus. Oops. "Why don't you tell me yours first?"

And I had no problem with that. Like I said, the imposed battle wasn't intentional. There was no reason for me to put up a fight. "Fine," I sighed. "It's Levi." Just Levi. Short and sweet, with no need to expand.

It was with a faint chuckle that had me wondering if this kid had a death wish, but after those soft rumbles of laughter left his chest and danced out of his lips, at long last, so did his name.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Levi. My name is Eren."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here! :D
> 
> This chapter ended up being a little shorter than the last, which begs the question, what do you guys think? Are short chapters good? Are they too short? Let me know! (:
> 
> Also, both Eren's tattoo and his name have finally been revealed! It's about time Levi can stop referring to him as "that kid", right?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was a lot of fun to write! (:
> 
> And of course, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
>  
> 
> \-- Chappy


	4. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how perfect it truly is, it looks like a mistake.

He said his name was Eren, and then he spelled it for me. E-R-E-N. I didn't ask why he felt the need to do that, I just figured it must have been his introductory default, or whatever. And I'm not sure why - I'm  _really_  not sure why - but it made me wonder how his first meeting with his ex-boyfriend must have gone down. Mispronunciations and misspellings galore, I imagine. That's true love right there.

After we exchanged names and not much else, he shot me a quick smile and excused himself. He had a class to get to and I had a tattoo shop to run. But before he left, he strolled up to the front counter where Hanji was still diligently looking over our plans for the day and penciled in a date for his first tattoo removal session. She suggested that he start by scheduling an appointment on a Friday or a Saturday, in the event that he need a day or two to recover from the appointment. But  _oh no_ , the kid said. He'll be fine no matter what day he's booked on, so it was settled that his first session would be one week from today (i.e. next Tuesday after his classes). Stubborn kid.

With Eren gone, the whole aura within my shop shifted. It was almost immediately that I began to relax my shoulders and roll my neck. Hanji must have caught wind of my tension, because she asked, "He's really something, isn't he? Eren, I mean."

"How do you know his name?" I thought only I had been entrusted with the privilege of knowing his name, along with its spelling, but it would appear that I was wrong.

Hanji began to tap her pen against the scheduling sheets. With a click, she said, "He signed it right down here, of course. Not only that, but he told me his name before you showed up this morning. He's quite talkative, you know."

"Yeah, I know." That had me curious. I'd only been five or ten minutes late like always, so why was it that Hanji was making it seem like she knew more about this kid than I did? Just dwelling on the thought reminded me that Hanji had actually been  _laughing_ , when I'd entered the shop. Damn it, now I needed to know what they were talking about. "Hey, why were you laughing earlier?"

"Huh?" It took her a second, before the cause and effect connected with the question. "Oh, that? Eren was just telling me about how he was completely determined to have you remove his tattoo for him. Levi, he was so adamant and enthusiastic about it that it was almost pathetic. Just seeing and hearing him talk about how he'd totally be able to convince you and to sway your reasoning, it made me laugh because I knew that you would  _never_ give into him. Then again, you did something very surprising today."

That was the biggest understatement of the century. Surprising didn't even  _begin_ to describe what I'd done. As for my comeback? It was weak. "Well, whatever. We made a deal. I'm not someone who backs out on their word."

"Yes, but you're also someone who consistently rants about their views on the removal, destruction, or altering of art of any kind. Levi, I can't even count how many times I've had to turn away customers requesting removals on your behalf. You've only had to deny a handful of them personally, but I've had to decline more than my fingers, toes, or memory space can compute. And don't get me wrong, you and I share the same way of thinking about all of this, so that's why it just really blows my mind that some kid who you've never met before and have already said no to once can somehow get you to kneel at his demand. It's just...very interesting."

Hanji had a point; actually, she had many points, and that's why I began to glare at her prickly, pointy self. There was something she wasn't saying, and I had a feeling that hearing her say it would only piss me off. So, why exactly did I prompt her to continue? I really didn't know. "Where are you going with all of this, Hanji? What are you implying?"

There was a pause. Her silence was not only unsettling, it was a foreign notion, and before I received her response, she stood from where she'd been seated at the front counter and rounded the corner of it. With her hands on her hips and her shoulders raised, she looked me straight in the eye and expressed the last piece to her still perplexing puzzle. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure myself. All I'm saying is that if this Eren kid has the ability to shake your standards with little to no effort at all, I can't help but feel like there's something more to this entire situation than just a bargain. But like I said, I'm still not sure. Only time will tell, I suppose...but you know what?"

"Hm?" It was amazing how, seconds ago, I wanted nothing more than to hear the rest of what Hanji had to say. Now, I just wanted her to shut up. That was pretty much our entire relationship in a nutshell. Nonetheless, it was with a smile on her face and chuckle in her chest that had the air of the shop shifting again, this time into something slightly more breathable.

"At least Eren managed to entertain us with the story his tattoo is burdened by."

_Entertaining_  was Hanji's way of interpreting that story;  _nauseating_  was more like it. Seriously, what kind of college students come up with kinky pet names like that? Was that the new trend? Whatever it was, it was freaking disgusting. And  _stallion_? Give me a break. No brat who's barely an adult deserves such a name.  _Kitten_ , on the other hand...I could see that. In fact, I  _had_  seen it. Drawing myself back to when Eren had enticed me with his challenging gaze, it had me pairing that set of eyes and fashioning them into a bedroom setting. Damn, that was something I did  _not_  need to think about.

Luckily, the abrupt sound of the front door swinging open was enough to pull me out of my disastrous daydream. Hanji had been the one to greet our customer - a regular, in fact - with a bright smile and a chipper word of welcome. This was good; it was the distraction I'd needed. No more thinking about that stupid kid. We had work to do.

 

* * *

 

We'd tended to the grand total of four customers that day, and although it was a sizable change of pace from yesterday's flood of disappointment, it still wasn't enough to keep us completely satisfied. Maybe our day would have been more fulfilling if the tracings and colorings that we'd done were more complex. A simple butterfly pattern and the shading of a flame wasn't what I'd been looking for. I'd wanted something that would take my mind away from reality and spin me around in a world of subconscious. Sleeve tattoos with a purpose did that to me. Intricate back tattoos that placed a weight on the shoulders also bore that effect. A tattoo that took about thirty minutes of my time was just, for lack of better words, lame in comparison.

By the time I took notice to it, the sun had already set and it was time to close up the shop. With the lights off, the equipment put away, and the doors locked up tight, Hanji suggested that we go out and grab a bite to eat, and this time, I didn't decline her offer. I was hungry as Hell, and she paying for it.

Instead of going to that Mexican restaurant she'd mentioned yesterday, we went to a local diner that we frequented often during our lunch hour and ordered pancakes and waffles. Breakfast for dinner was something we hadn't done in a while, and even though drowning our stomachs with syrup probably wasn't the healthiest of options, it managed to gratify us in a way that our day had not.

Parting ways with Hanji felt odd that evening. Normally, a silent farewell would have been just that -  _normal_. But tonight, it seemed as if all of her unspoken words from dinner were circling my head like a nasty swarm of flies. I could have asked her to spit it out and she more than likely would have, but when I saw her lips part and her breath cut off, I realized it was probably for the best not to pester her. If anything, she had faltered for my own good.

But the flies followed me home.

They followed me out of the car and into the building. They followed me up the stairs and around the railing. The followed me all the way down to where my studio apartment was squished into a cozy little corner, until I unlocked the front door and pushed my way inside. That's when the flies finally flew away, because in that moment, I had heard Hanji's words, both spoken and not, loud and clear.

_"I can't help but feel like there's something more to this entire situation than just a bargain."_

_"...there's something more to this..."_

_"...something more..."_

_"...Levi, is there something more to this?"_

It would be a foolish lie to say no, but it would be an exaggerated answer to say yes. There was  _something_  about Eren, that part of it was true, but whether it was intrigue, bafflement, or utter whoa at his stupidity would remain a mystery to me...temporarily, at least.

I'd been in such a rush that morning, that the sight of yesterday's painting caught me off my guard. It would have been one thing if the image in itself had only been a portrait of a sunrise, but no, that thing had  _eyes_ , and they watched and judged my every move until I physically made my way up to the painting and flipped the canvas around. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Yeah, no.

Just seeing those streaks of color had me itching to break out my jars of paint and scrape my hands up and down the jagged, brick walls that encompassed me. I wanted to surround myself with creativity, allowing my mind to be devoured by the subconscious I'd been yearning for, but it was already late. Going out for dinner had subtracted the few hours out of my day that I had to myself. All that was left of my time was enough for a quick piss before bed.

But as I laid there restlessly, vision obscured by the absence of light, it was an hour after I'd tucked myself in between the sheets that I'd cussed like a captain and sailed out of bed. It was no use. Sleep had never been the cure to my cravings. If I wanted to paint, I was  _going_  to paint, and off came the lids of my jar set.

Even though the intensity of my deprivation had been rather immense, when I broke out a new canvas and began to swipe fingers tipped with black paint along its surface, something didn't feel right. Black had always been one of my favourite colors to paint with, because its permanency left no room for mistakes. Yet, with each stroke that my index and middle finger masterfully shaped, I felt like I was doing something  _wrong_. My curves were perfect and unique, but they didn't look accurate. My shadows were primed like a prodigy, but I wanted to erase them. Everything about that painting was a _mistake_ , and I wanted nothing more than to chuck it out the window and start all over again. But then, my hand began to gravitate, and everything made sense again.

Pink. Like the color of his lips, and the edges of his tempting tongue. Blue. Like the folds of his shirt and in the threading of his hat. Yellow. Like the elegance of his eyes and the grace of his gaze. Pink, blue, and yellow. Three colors that had no business intermingling with each other had never looked so  _good_ on a canvas before. And so I carried on.

When the late hours of the night began to give way to the early minutes of the morning, I dreadfully slumped to my knees and marveled at my masterpiece in awe. A profile of a pleasured visage; the make and mold of an expression overtaken with ecstasy. Mouth agape and eyes ablaze, the colors that would have never managed such mastery on their own worked wonders in unison. And the black paint? It hadn't gone to waste. What was once an error had blossomed into the exact line work of an image that both disturbed and compelled.

It was in that moment that I came to terms with doubts; this had definitely been more than just a bargain. What it became was the most involuntary form of infatuation I had ever experienced, and damn it all, I'd been clawing at my skin with confused impatience every second of the day until the following Tuesday.

Hanji made a point to address my aggression at every chance she grasped. Whether it was an innocent, "Are you okay?" or a more deliberate, "Do you have to act so hostile?" my response always seemed to fall along the same lines.

"Stop asking."

And as fate would have it, the rest of the week dug its heels into the ground, passing on second by agonizing second. The days weren't even all that eventful, either. Had we had a lot of clients to deal with, my brain may not have been so focused on what was to come six days from then, five days from then, four days from then...

The night before Eren's first session, I couldn't sleep at all. Not only did I have  _two_ paintings inspired by his stupid self in my apartment - albeit backward-facing, but still - he'd called the shop ten minutes before closing to  _remind_  us about his appointment the next day, like we had somehow magically forgotten the monumental occasion.

All throughout the dormant hours of the night, his voice continued to play over and over in my head, ringing in my ears and scratching at my brain. And just the way he'd worded himself, too, it was repulsive; like we were already buddy-buddy with each other, when in reality, the only things I knew about him were his name, his assumed age, his hideous fashion sense, and his tattoo's story. If those were the new qualifications for friends these days, then by all means, call us chummy.

_"I'll see you tomorrow. I know you'll be waiting for me."_

If only he knew how much time and stress I'd wasted impatiently waiting for Tuesday to come, he'd probably wear the cockiest smirk on his lips for the rest of eternity. He didn't deserve that knowledge. In fact, he didn't even deserve to smile at all, because the only reason I'd been so desperate for his session to come was because I just wanted to  _get it_   _over_   _with_.

But yeah, I didn't sleep that night.

It was with the morning sun burning through my pupils that I texted Hanji and told her I wouldn't be in until the late afternoon. When she asked why, I told her that I was tired. She didn't respond after that, and I didn't feel like adding anything else to my statement. Instead, I burrowed my face into two sets of pillows and tried to drown out the day and drink up what little sleep I could actually get.

By the time I was up and functioning, it was 4PM.

Food was a must, but before I could eat an entire refrigerator's worth of nourishment, I decided to take a shower. Even though I'd showered before heading off to one of my most sleepless nights of my entire life, I wanted to rinse away the tension I'd accumulated in both my back and my neck from trying all different kinds of sleeping positions. As it turned out, the position that was the most effective was the one that killed my posture. I was just a fountain of luck, apparently.

Truth be told, the shower had done me some good, but after getting dressed, downing some leftover ravioli and a breadstick, and slipping out the front door, the tension was back. If I'd estimated it correctly, by the time I arrived at the shop, Eren would be there any minute, if not already there. That realization alone had my foot wavering between both the gas and the brake pedals. Accelerate? Slow down? Face the kid? Make him wait like he made  _me_  wait?

I tipped the gas pedal.

Reluctance and eagerness had somehow turned into a recipe for speed, because before I could even comprehend left from right, the gravel from the shop's lot was crunching against the tires of my car and I was pulling up into my designated spot...until I noticed that it wasn't vacant.

If Hanji had been the one to steal my spot, I wouldn't have minded it so much. She and I went back and forth between parking spots all the time, it wasn't that big of a deal. But this car, it  _wasn't_  hers, and the thing that ticked me off the most was that I vaguely recognized it.

This car had to have been Eren's.

A muffled cuss and a sharp veer of the steering wheel had me pulling into the spot  _next_  to my spot, and after turning off the ignition and getting out of the car, I had every intention to key the side of his door until something in the back window caught my attention. A lot of somethings, actually.

Spread out across the backseats of the car laid both half and fully developed photographs of all sorts. Polaroids, vintage prints, panoramas, etc. All of the display was so cluttered and in such disarray that the beauty of the photographs could hardly be seen in spotlight. But that made me wonder...had Eren taken these photos? If so, well, they weren't all that bad. Actually, some of them were...

"Levi, there you are!" Hanji gasped, rushing out from the front of the shop. "I knew I heard your car pull up. What are you doing out here? You know that Eren's already inside, don't you?"

Sighing, I gave her a nod and tried not to appear all that suspicious. "Yeah, yeah, I know." I almost added that he  _deserved_  to wait after all of the anxious tension he'd put me through, but instead asked, "How long has he been here?"

"About fifteen minutes. I saw him waiting in his car for half of that, though, and I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe he's scared?"

Eren?  _Scared_? I highly doubted that. Scoffing, I pushed past Hanji and stepped onto the sidewalk that lined the shop, before saying the one thing that probably hadn't even crossed her mind. "If anything, he's probably disappointed that I wasn't  _waiting_ for him."

With enough said and enough time already wasted, I sauntered up to the front door and gave it a push. Entering the shop before Hanji had left me unprepared for what I was about to witness, but even so, I couldn't exactly say that it was unexpected.

In short, the place was an absolute mess. The equipment was everywhere, tattoo guns were laying around like children's toys, and lo and behold, there was Eren, evidently shirtless and ready to go. He shot me a wave. "Hey."

God must have really hated me.

Closing my eyes and inhaling a sharp breath through my nose, I did what every sane person says to do and I counted to ten. When that didn't work, I counted sheep and suddenly felt tired all over again. Wonderful. "Hanji, what exactly did you do today that caused all of..." I could only think to gesture at everything before me, including Eren, "... _this_?"

"Well," she started innocently, "it's kind of difficult running a shop all by yourself, you know. Aside from Eren, we had two other customers that were scheduled at times that were fairly close to one another, so lots of rushing and rummaging around was going on. Oh, and the coffee pot almost caught on fire, but don't worry! I handled it."

That was an overstatement, an overstatement that I didn't want to see happen again. "Hanji," I said, breathing away my intoxicating anger, "I think you've had a long enough day. You should go home."

"But what about Eren?" If I didn't know any better, I would have said that she seemed genuinely concerned about leaving him alone with me. It's funny how Eren ended up being the one to speak up for himself.

"I'll be fine," he said, looking rather pleased. "If Levi and I are going to be having sessions like this for a year or more, we're going to have to get to know each other pretty well, wouldn't you say?"

"I guess that's true...but are you sure that you two will be okay? I can totally stay and help out around-"

I cut her off. "You've helped enough, thank you."

Getting verbally demanding with Hanji always had a tendency to make her go into "kicked puppy" mode, but I couldn't help myself this time. There was too much happening all at once and I was starting to feel suffocated. I just needed a second to breathe.

Obediently, Hanji collected up her things and told me to call her if I needed anything, before she walked out of the shop, got into her car, and drove off, leaving me, Eren, and a hoard of mess behind.

For someone who usually talks so much, Eren had been oddly quiet until Hanji had left. Now that it was just the two of us, he must have mustered up the will to say, "I wasn't sure if you needed me to take my shirt off during the removal or not. What do you think?"

"You could have kept it on," I sighed, trying to keep my cool about the whole thing. Eren had already made a vast mistake by parking in my spot, but if he could just be a little more agreeable in his speech and actions, maybe this evening wouldn't end up being so bad. "If anything, I'll need you to take off your pants."

"Roger that." Walking over to where he must have tossed his shirt, Eren slipped the article of vibrant clothing back over his head, before hooking his fingers through the loops of his jeans. Undoing his buttons and his belt, he shimmied until his pants were halfway down his thighs. That's when he looked up at me. "Where should I sit?"

Waving my hand at all of his options, I told him that any chair would be fine as long as he let me wipe it down first. And so, after picking the chair that was the furthest from the front entrance, Eren sat on the edge of it while I went to go and grab a spray bottle and a moist cloth.

With the chair disinfected and everything else basically ready to go, Eren laid back and made himself comfortable. I would have thought that he seemed rather content, until I heard him sigh all the way over from where I was gathering up the equipment for his removal.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

At first, his only response had been another sigh, but soon enough, his pretty, pink lips formed words. "I'm just...in shock, I guess. Happy, but shocked."

Rolling the cart with my gadgets and gizmos over to where Eren sat, I plopped myself down in my artist's chair and tried to make better sense of what he was saying. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He favored a slight pause, before turning his attention over to me. With his eyes finally on mine, I could accurately see how happy he truly was. "I guess I'm also pretty thankful that you're doing this for me. I mean, I could have gone somewhere else without nearly as much of a fuss, but I didn't want to. Your shop drew me in from the moment I read about it online, and after seeing it in person and meeting both you and Hanji, I knew that you guys were the ones to do this, whether you liked it or not."

"Yeah, definitely not," I stated, in regards to his mention about our likes. Even so, hearing that he had placed my shop up to such high standards was actually kind of flattering. I almost wanted to ask him what other expectations he had for my business, but quickly decided against it. We could chat about that later. For now, it was time to get gloved up and start executing the one magic tragic that an artist like myself had never imagined to preform.

With latex on my hands and a laser gun at my mercy, I felt like I was asking Eren's consent for much  _more_  than just his word to begin. "Are you ready, Eren?"

He wasn't hesitant. In fact, he'd said yes, before I could even get the full sound of his name out of my mouth. "Alright then," I said, with a slight nod. "Hold down your boxers for me and I'll get started."

Without remark, Eren dug his thumb under the elastic band of his underwear and pulled them down just enough to reveal the full expanse of his Godawful tattoo. I saw him sneak a peek at it one last time, before rolling his eyes in disgust and ultimately closing them altogether. He muttered something, but I couldn't exactly make out what he'd said, because just when he'd started to speak, I'd flipped the ON switch on the gun, smoothed my fingers against his hip, and began to press the laser into his tattooed skin.

It was surprising how willing I'd been to agree to Eren's request, but what surprised me even more was how simple it was to actually  _remove_  a tattoo. Forget the long process and the numbered sessions, I was actually  _enjoying_  the motion of just smoothing this device along Eren's pelvis. Something interesting was that he didn't even flinch when I'd pressed the gun into him without warning, and after going at the same patch of skin for about five minutes or so, I'd even seen him  _relax_.

However, with ten minutes already clocked into the session, I'd realized that neither of us had said a word to each other. Yeah, and here I thought that we were supposed to get to know each other better. I would have pitted that statement against him, if I hadn't already noticed that his boxers were slowly but surely creeping back up to his hips. What in the...

"Well, I'll be damned..."

I didn't think it was physically possible to do so, when your body was being inflicted with constant, irritable pain, but leave it to Eren to fall asleep during his first tattoo removal session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> Eren's pain tolerance is off the charts, isn't it? Haha, the poor kid is probably exhausted from all of his college work, huh?
> 
> Anyways, this chapter ended up being a bit longer than expected, and I'm really happy for that! Then again, the lengths of the chapters in this story may or may not fluctuate depending on the content they each contain, so yeah! I really enjoyed writing for this chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it! (:
> 
> And, as always, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	5. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You looked so perfect that I wanted to preserve your image forever.

It would never cease to amaze me how that kid had actually managed to lull himself to sleep with the consistent zap of a laser gun piercing into his hip. It's not like the sting from the shock was a dull pain, either; some people claim that tattoo removals hurt even  _more_ than actually getting the tattoo. And yet, there he was, laying limply in the extended chair with his mouth opened wide and ready to catch flies (not like there would actually be flies in my shop, though).

When I pulled the gun away to assess the damage so far, I was pleasantly surprised to see that some of the color in the ink had actually faded. That was, however, until I'd grabbed one of the moist cloths that were kept on hand to wipe away some of the peaking blood droplets. With a single swipe of my fingers, the vibrant density of the black ink was back again. Just how deep did Eren make his tattoo artist go? No, he didn't need to answer that. I had a vague idea of what he must have told them.

_"Whatever you do, just make sure that it's permanent."_

Yeah, he'd probably say something stupid like that, like the tattoo alone wasn't already permanent enough. Sighing, I rested the cloth against my thigh as I continued to smooth out his skin. His boxers started to ride up again, making it difficult to work for more than two seconds at a time without having to slide them back down. The third time I had to shut off the gun in order to fix them, I was barely a breath away from just ripping them off entirely. Not for lewd or immodest reasons; I only wanted them to stop interfering with my work.

As I applied more pressure to the heavily inked portions of the horse's body and limbs, I noticed that Eren had flinched slightly, but there were still no signs of him waking up any time soon. Someone get this boy a medal of honor, because he damn well deserved it.

Wiping him down after smaller bits of blood began to bead, I had to wonder if Eren would be disappointed to find out that he'd slept through his entire session. Having him call the shop the night before his appointment to  _remind_ us about his session showed his enthusiasm. The fact that he had his shirt off and was all but raring to go the second I'd stepped through the front door only proved it even further. Snoozing during the one thing he'd had his mind set on all week - and possibly longer - was more than likely going to upset him.

The silence of the empty shop and the gentle buzz of electricity from the gun was calming in a way that felt odd admitting. Yeah, it's really relaxing to listen to someone getting their ink scorched off. Totally zen. But in all seriousness, while the quiet was nice and made it easier to focus, I would have liked to strike up a conversation with the kid. Although he was annoying as Hell and had a horribly snarky attitude, he was one of the most interesting clients I'd done business with in a while.

While the ink and the minutes continued to melt, Eren's first session was quickly coming to a close, which was a relief in one sense, but it was also a huge pain in another: how the Hell was I going to wake this kid up? If a freaking  _laser gun_ put him to sleep, then what kind of logic would there be if a simple tap on the wrist or a shake of the shoulders did the trick? Absolutely none.

And with that, I slid the device along the tip of the horse's snout and I was done. Turning the gun off and setting it aside, I wiped away the blood that had collected on Eren's hip one last time before getting up. It felt nice to stretch out my legs after sitting in the same, hunched over position for such an extensive period of time, but that wasn't why I'd gotten up in the first place. Now that Eren's session was complete, he was going to need ice.

I slipped into the back room and headed over to where Hanji and I kept a mini fridge - you know, for all of our miniature refrigeration needs. Shoving aside her two-week-old carton of Chinese take-out, I snatched the ice tray from its freezer compartment and took it with me as I made my way back into the main shop.

Before re-joining Sleeping Beauty, I paused briefly at the front desk and began to shuffle around in one of the uppermost drawers. I cursed Hanji for making such a mess of things, otherwise, I wouldn't have had as much trouble as I was having trying to find a plastic sandwich bag. We had them handy for clients in the event that they wanted a tattoo in a place that required them to remove pieces of jewelry, but in Eren's case, he would be using it as an ice pack.

After finally uncovering one of them, I slammed the desk drawer shut and started pouring the ice cubes into the plastic bag. With a slide of my fingers, I snapped up the seal and walked back over to Eren. It didn't surprise me that he was bleeding again, nor was I shocked to find him still asleep. I reached for the cloth I'd been using beforehand and used it to gently dab the reddened skin of his hip, before resting the bag of ice there. Again, only a minor fidget upon contact, but nothing of substance that would lead to his arousal.

Eren's removal session had begun promptly at 5PM. By 6PM, I'd finished my work, cleaned him up, and started icing the area of treatment. I took a small dinner break at 7PM, and thirty minutes later, took another one to use the bathroom. What was both mildly unsettling and very plausible was that, at 8PM, as I was flipping the signs and turning off the neon lighting fixtures, Eren  _still_  hadn't woken up yet. Like I said, get that kid a freakin' medal.

Even though it had been one of the most bizarre appointments I'd ever had to deal with, I wasn't worried for the kid's well-being. Albeit infrequently, Eren was still moving and twitching, so it wasn't like he was dead. Dead to the world, maybe, but not  _dead_  dead. Also, about every ten minutes or so, he'd make a really grotesque smacking sound with his lips, followed by either or mumble or a moan. As far as I was concerned, dead people didn't do that, and so I waited. What else could I do, really? It wasn't like I could just lock up the shop with him still in it. Unless...

Yeah, no. There was no way I could do that.

Waiting around for some stupid kid to wake up from his extreme power nap became boring exceptionally fast. If my cell phone's data plan had been unlimited, I probably would have surfed the web or watched dumb, yet entertaining videos. But alas, I was already on eighty-two percent of usage, and with my next billing cycle not for another week, I didn't want to risk it.

Instead of just idling about and creepily sitting next to Eren, I decided to make myself useful and tidied up around the shop. I would have made Hanji come in early the next morning and do it herself, but seeing as I had absolutely nothing better to do, I got started by clearing off the desk and picking up everything that didn't belong on the floor  _off_ of the floor. I would have reorganized the ink shelves, too, hadn't the sound of a muffled yawn and a confused mumble drawn my attention. "Oh, you're finally awake."

Dazed and delirious, I saw Eren's droopy eyes survey his surroundings, before quickly and horrifically coming to the conclusion that, no, this definitely was not his bedroom. Actually, for a second there, it seemed as if he had no idea where he was. He even began to ask, "Where...?" but that was stupid, and I didn't allow him to finish such an idiotic question.

"Where do you think you are, Eren?" I grumbled, with a scowl. Maybe if I spoke up loud enough, he could feel the ferocity in my voice from across the room. "You're in my shop."

Snapping his head to look over in my direction - practically giving himself whiplash in the process - Eren's exhausted eyes instantly doubled in size, finally showing those telltale signs of consciousness. "Wait, what the Hell?! Did I...I fell asleep?!"

"Yup."

"For how long?!"

I had to think about that for a second. "Well, it's almost 8:30 now, so about...three and a half hours?"

Upon hearing my unbelievable response, most of the colors in Eren's face slowly began to fade. Was it scary to him that he'd been knocked out for the past three hours? "...Really? That long?"

"Yeah." I kept my replies brief, knowing that Eren would more than likely have a million and one questions that he wanted answers to. There was no need for me to waste my breath by answering him in detail, unless he specifically asked for it.

After scratching his head and ruffling his hair, he slowly sat himself upright. He must have felt something squishy slide across his abdomen, because he looked down into his lap with a small gasp. "A bag of water?"

"It used to be ice. It was to help cool down your skin, after I'd finished applying the laser to it." I figured something like that would have been considered common sense, but apparently not.

"Oh, that makes sense." Of course it makes sense. It's  _common sense_. He scooped up the bag of water and casually placed it onto the cart that I'd been using to keep all of my equipment close by and at my disposal. "By the way, is your shop already closed for the night?"

I nodded and leaned my hip against the edge of the front desk. I wonder what tipped him off. Was it the fact that we were the only ones in the shop? That the lights had been dimmed and the signs had been flipped? Or maybe it was my air of impatience that made him realize it was well past lock up. "Yeah, it closes at 8PM."

"Damn," he sighed apologetically, "I'm so sorry. You could have just shaken me awake, or something like that. Or maybe you could have yelled a little bit"

Yeah, I highly doubted that first one would have worked. Then again, it never crossed my mind to  _yell_  at him. Touch and sound were two, very different senses. Eren may have had the pain tolerance of a boulder, but he could also quite possibly have had the hearing of a baby bat, and just the thought of it alone made  _me_  feel like the idiot for not giving it a try.

"I'll try to keep that in mind for the next time. Oh, and speaking of next time, while we're here, we should probably schedule your next appointment." I was already at the desk where we kept all of the scheduling sheets, so why not just get it over with? "Have a date and time in mind?"

You know that feeling when you're talking to someone, and it's like they're not even  _trying_ to pay attention to what you're saying? Yeah, Eren's absent expression was giving me that feeling. "Um, hello?"

"Oh!" His head shot up, at the sound of my prompting tone. He'd been looking at his tattoo, probably trying to see if there were any visible changes in it yet. I hated to break it to him, but I'd already warned him that he wouldn't start seeing results until two or three sessions in. Maybe he hadn't been completely listening to me back then, either. "Did you say something?"

"I asked about your next appointment. When do you want me to schedule it for?"

It was obvious that my patience had been slowly slipping away by the second, and what both baffled and amazed me was how Eren, after he had just asked me if I'd said something to him, had already gone back to tuning me out. That was it.

"Okay, listen up,  _kid_ ," I hissed, spitting out the derogatory nickname like venom. "If you're going to keep ignoring me like this, or keep me waiting around for your lazy ass to wake up, I'm not going to-"

"Levi, can I talk to you about something?"

...What? His question had caught me completely off guard, stunning me into a silence that caused him to squirm awkwardly.

"I mean, I know it's after closing and you probably want to get home," he said, while playing with the folds of his shirt, "but I feel like I missed out on my opportunity to talk to you by falling asleep."

Well, he wasn't wrong, but he also wasn't making any sense. Whatever he wanted to talk about, he was making it seem like some sort of big deal, and I didn't know if I was willing to get myself into something like that. Then again, I didn't have a valid excuse for hurriedly heading home under my belt, either. I wasn't tired, I wasn't hungry, and I was pretty sure that if I spent another one of my nights painting, the outcome would drive me insane.

I sighed reluctantly and left my post at the front desk. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, as I walked over to where Eren still sat. He hadn't stopped fumbling with his shirt, and it was honestly starting to make me feel slightly nervous. If he was going to spout out some stupid love confession, I had every fiber of my being armed and ready to smack him across the face. Not sure why, but that felt like the appropriate response to such a thing.

Having a seat in the rolling chair beside him, I rested my elbows against my knees and let my hands hang loosely between my legs. I didn't know how long this talk was going to last, so I'd better make myself good and comfortable, right? When I spoke, I looked up at him. "Fine, we can talk. What did you want to say?"

Eren's eyes had trouble directing their focus on anything but his stupid shirt, so in order to get him to meet my gaze, I encouraged him by tapping his leg with a knuckle or two.

It was like the kid was refusing to look at me, like he couldn't bring himself to look into my eyes, but at least he'd acknowledged my attention with a gentle sigh and a small shrug. "I'm not sure if you're up for it, but I kind of wanted to tell you a little bit about myself..." There was a hesitant pause between his two thoughts. That was never a good sign. "...Myself and Jean."

"Your ex-boyfriend?" The conversation had only just started and I was already feeling lost. Why in the Hell would Eren want to talk to me about his ex? Talking about himself, I could understand, but his ex? Oh, the regret of accepting his invitation to chat was already settling in.

I saw Eren eye me for a flicker of a second, before he was back to focusing on his shirt again. If this was how our entire exchange was going to end up, I no longer felt as inclined to hold my own eye contact with him. However, just as I'd shifted to look away, I was suddenly blanketed by his warm stare.

"I don't want to talk about this just as much as I'm sure you don't want to hear it," Eren admitted irritatedly. "But I feel like if you  _know_ the events that led to our break up, you'll feel better about what you're doing. You know, removing my tattoo and stuff..."

We'd already gotten through one of his removal sessions  _without_  me knowing anything about his past relationship, so I didn't really understand how he'd come up such a conclusion, but I chose not to highlight that notion. I'd rather preserve some of my dignity as an artist, thank you.

"Look, if you don't want to talk about it, I'm not forcing you to." I wanted to make that point very clear. "But this is obviously something that's stuck on your mind, so if you want to go ahead and rant about your relationship troubles, then I really don't care. I'll just listen."

Eren nodded, and finally -  _finally_ \- stopped playing with his shirt. "Thanks. That's all I could ever ask for, really."

After asking if there was any way to re-adjust his chair so that he could sit up straight while still having some back support, I helped him get positioned and waited for him to begin. I'm not gonna lie, it'd be kind of weird if he'd started talking without even pulling his pants back up, so I waited for him to do that, too.

Just before opening up his big mouth, I caught a glimpse of his hardened expression. And in a moment of tension, I quickly realized that, whatever this kid was about to tell me, it was going to exceed all of my expectations of him.

"I guess I should start off by telling you that I'm studying to become a professional photographer," he began, with a small smile. Huh, that would explain all of the photographs I'd seen in the backseat of his car. "Ever since I was a kid-" News flash, you're  _still_  a kid, "-I would always ask my parents if I could borrow their polaroid cameras. I would just run out into the backyard and start snapping pictures of all kinds of stuff, and it would be pretty awesome."

To show that I was following him so far, I shot him a quick nod, because hey, I could relate to his enthusiasm. I used to run around with my hands and legs completely covered in glitter and paint.

"So anyway, in my teens, I started getting more serious about photography. I saved up all of my birthday and Christmas money to buy myself my very first Digital SLR camera. My parents told me to get something cheap, but I figured you outta go big or go home. After that purchase, all of my free time was dedicated solely to my passion. I'd take pictures of plants, animals, people; anything that looked like it needed to be preserved forever.

In my senior year of high school, when I was out on one of my photography excursions, I stopped at small coffee shop for a short break. I was pretty tired from all of the traveling I'd done that morning and wasn't planning on taking pictures of anything in there...until I saw  _him_. I'd never seen him, or someone  _like_ him before, so it goes without saying that I didn't know his name. And now that I think back on it, he wasn't all that special. He was just some guy sitting at a table, sipping on coffee and reading  _Don Quixote_. But I was taken by him. The dim lighting in the shop and the way he was positioning himself like a proper man portrayed him as incredibly photogenic. So, what did I do? The stupidest and greatest thing I had ever done before.

I tried to unzip my camera bag as discretely as possible, and when I took another quick peek at the man through my camera's view finder, I was grateful to see that he hadn't noticed what I was doing. Playing with the focus and setting his frame into position, I waited for him to turn to the next page of his book before pressing the shutter button. Heh, can you guess what happened?"

Context clues alone had given me a pretty good idea of what went down after that, so I clicked my tongue and said, "I don't know. Did the flash go off, or something?"

"Bingo," he chuckled. "I'd forgotten that I'd set my camera to automatically flash in darkened areas, and since the lighting in the shop was so weak, the flash from my camera basically illuminated the whole place. Ugh, it was so embarrassing. Not only that, but the guy that I was snapping the picture of wasn't all that happy, when he saw that my lens pointed directly at him.

Without thinking my actions through, I bolted out of the shop and tried to get as far away from that place as quickly as possible, but it was no use. I could hear thundering footsteps and someone shouting at me to stop running. Looking back, I wasn't surprised to see that it was the guy whose picture I'd taken.

It sucked that I'd been so energy drained at the time, otherwise, I would have easily been able to out run him. But instead, he quickly caught up to me. He forcefully grabbed me by the shoulder and asked me to give him a good answer as to why I'd taken his picture in secret like I did. It was creepy, he said, and he felt violated, so without thinking, I told him what I just told you.  _'You...looked so perfect that I wanted to preserve your image forever.'_ "

Eren took a moment to breathe after that. Nostalgic thoughts can be either a Godsend or a devil's curse, so I didn't blame him for needing a second or two to recollect his thoughts.

"Anyway, I'm not going to bore you with the minor details, but instead of being angry at me, the guy started to laugh. He called me cute and pathetic, even though what I'd done was still kind of strange to him. He then told me something unexpected; he told me that he was a male model, which I didn't doubt for a second. His career required him to get his picture taken for hours on end, but when it came to photos snapped in secret, he had honestly been shocked by it. One statement led to another, and before we knew it, we were exchanging names, ages, and contact information.

We talked to each other pretty much every day after that, whether it be on the phone or through text message. He would tell me about his photo shoots, and I would talk to him about the blade of grass I'd taken a picture of - mind you, it was a beautiful blade of grass. Day by day, we were learning so much about each other, and then one day, he asked me the one question that was all but inevitable by that point.  _'Eren, are you gay?'_ he asked me, and when I answered yes, he said that he had thought so and hung up. The next day, he asked me out."

Eren's story was progressing at a pace that sounded like it had come straight from a romance movie based off of the highly acclaimed novel: not as good and really cheesy. However, I patiently continued to listen to what he had to say next.

"We'd been dating for about three months by the time I graduated from high school, and with him already being a freshman in college, we decided, hey, why not live together? The cost of renting out a small apartment ended up being cheaper than the dorms anyway, and we both figured that if we found a two-bedroom place that had utilities included, it would be like we were roommates, or something."

Eren stopped in the middle of his story again, but this time, it wasn't because he needed a breather; it was because he was embarrassed, and it almost made me wish that he could see his face. He probably didn't even realize that his cheeks had flushed into the brightest shade of red I'd seen all week.

"Yeah," he coughed, "even though we were renting for two, we only ever ended up using one of those bedrooms. That aside, Jean made my transition from home to essentially living on my own an easy one. He always made sure there was enough food in the fridge, and I always made certain that he had clean clothes to wear the next morning. Everything about our new life together couldn't have been more ideal...or so I'd thought.

About two years down the line, I was a junior and he was a senior. By this point, I'd been scoring lots of gigs where people would request my photography services at their parties or weddings or wherever. I wasn't even officially employed yet, but everyone that I'd shown my portfolio to loved my work and wanted me to be one of the photographers at their venues. And how could I deny such incredible offers, right? I would have been stupid to say no. Almost as stupid as I'd been on this one morning when I was booked for some girl's sweet sixteen.

There I was, in my car and already about halfway to the location of the party when I realized that my camera wasn't in the backseat. Like the idiot that I am, I'd left my camera in its bag on the kitchen table after being in such a rush to get out the front door and on my merry way. And obviously, I couldn't just show up at the venue without my camera in tow, so I had to turn around and head all the way back to the apartment."

Eren didn't stop speaking, but I immediately noticed a difference in his demeanor. His eyes, wide with the amusement of his story, had narrowed into fine daggers. The hands, having remained still for much of the tale, were balled up into tight fists, earning a token of concern on my part. That was when our conversation headed south...rapidly.

"About twenty minutes later, I was back at the apartment and stumbling over my own two feet to get to the kitchen table. Everything seemed fine at first, but when I lifted my camera bag to sling it over my shoulder, what I'd noticed made my heart stop beating: my bag was unzipped.

Now, I'm not someone who has very many obsessive compulsive tendencies, but when it comes to my camera bag, I  _always_  make sure that it's zipped up before I put it  _anywhere_. I could just be resting it down for a second, and I still have to zip it up.

An innocent thought crossed my mind, and it was that because of my scattered brain that morning, maybe I had actually forgotten to zip it. But the truth outweighed the naivety. Someone had been using my camera.

Again, I was so ignorant. I pulled my camera out of its bag and hesitantly turned it on. I thought,  _'Hey, maybe Jean was trying to be romantic and took a picture of himself to wish me good luck at my gig.'_  Even though the idea of that was cute, it still left me feeling a bit tense. Jean worked in front of the camera, not behind it. He knew that I was very particular about my camera, and I really didn't want him tampering with machinery that he didn't know how to properly operate. Still, I kept my hopes high for an adorable bedhead selfie, or something sweet like that. Oh, but I couldn't have been more wrong even if I'd tried.

It was a huge relief that my camera turned on and seemed to be working fine, so I eagerly clicked the review button to see the last picture that had been taken - you know, expecting to see a picture of my boyfriend. But it wasn't a selfie. Oh, it was _not_  a selfie at all. In fact, I didn't even know what to call it at the time other than utter betrayal."

Turning my attention toward Eren's face, I noted his twisted scowl. It was mixed with a hint of sadness and a whole lot of anger. Clearing my throat in an effort to ease some of the tension that had built up over the course of the conversation, I decided that it might have been a good time for me to chime in. Let the kid know that I was still listening, and in fact, completely enthralled by his story. "What did you see?"

The mask that Eren wore had the muted aggression of a lion, but also possessed the damaged dimensions of a beaten dog. As a strained sigh slipped through his wavering lips, it was evident to me that this kid had been holding back his sensitivity. Either that, or he'd been a sheep in wolf's clothing all along, but I found that hard to believe - especially when I heard what his answer had been. Anyone who had ever loved and claimed to be loved in return would understand why Eren was struggling on the verge of vengeful tears.

"A sex tape. It was a sex tape of Jean with another man, a man I had never seen before."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> Alright, this chapter was very dialogue heavy, so I hope you all didn't mind that too much! But hey, at least we're getting a view of how Eren and Jean met, as well as why they fell apart. It's pretty rough, huh? Expect more details about Eren and Jean's break up in the next chapter to come!
> 
> Even though it pained me to type out the ending of this chapter, I really loved getting to write about Eren's past and his love for photography. I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> Anywho, thank you very much for taking the time to read! I always appreciate it!
> 
> \- Chappy (:
> 
> P.S. I know I don't post this often, and it's my first time posting it for this fanfic, but if you want to follow me on tumblr, my URL is kairixxxsora16. I mostly reblog Attack on Titan and DRAMAtical Murder! And chapter updates, of course! Feel free to check it out! (:


	6. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's interesting how the people who cheat never seem to have a justifiable reason for it.

Cheating is one of those trivial things that humans sometimes do in order to get by in life. Everyone, in one way or another, has cheated before - that's a simple fact. Whether it was on a test or just to snag a few bucks out of a friend (I am guilty of both the prior and the latter), when done all in good fun or to seriously save yourself from a failing final grade, it's something that's pretty harmless if it's taken to a certain extent. However, when cheating and relationships are thrown into the same bag and mixed around until the fine lines become obscured, there is no such thing as harmless fun.

Up until the climax of Eren's story, I had listened to everything and anything he had to say with very minimal input on my part. But after hearing something like that, something so unforgivable in a way that it made even  _me_  begin to feel physically ill, it was time for me to make a comment. "Eren, is that true?" I asked. I hadn't questioned the reliability of his words since he'd begun speaking, so why now? Was it because I didn't believe him? Or better yet, was it because I didn't  _want_  to believe him. "Did that really happen?"

He nodded a awfully slow nod. Now that he'd addressed the main reason as to why his relationship had been put to a halting stop, his entire demeanor was different. He definitely seemed more aggressive at first glance, but one look into his exhausted eyes was all it took for me to see that his anger only went as deep as the surface. If I were to scrape and scratch past that barrier, I would find myself swirling in a world of suffering.

"Yeah," he said softly. As he continued to speak, his voice began to break. By the end of his last sentence, he was all but whispering his remaining words. "I didn't want to believe it either, but how could I not? The evidence was all right there, like a hard slap across the face. And you know, the more I scrolled back through my picture review, the more and more pictures I found of that man. All at once, there were too many things to think about. When did it happen? Had I always been oblivious to this affair? Most importantly, how long did it take for me to notice that my camera bag had been unzipped? I had been taking pictures of rose petals and cigarette butts just a few days prior, meaning that whatever disgusting deeds Jean and that man had done together, they had done them pretty recently...and in our bed."

I could have gagged, upon hearing that last part. Not to be the one to give alternative options to an affair, but they could have done it on the floor, over the couch, or even in the shower and their betrayal would have been just as bad, but the thought of laying in the the same bed where it had all happened just a few nights before, rolling around in the sheets and getting comfortable for a good night's sleep, it was horribly repulsive - and not to mention unsanitary.

"What did you do?" I almost felt redundant for asking. It was pretty obvious that Eren must have confronted his ex about the video and the pictures, but I wanted to hear it from him just to be sure. And taking a step back for a moment, just how  _stupid_  was Eren's ex-boyfriend really? The fact that he had legitimately  _recorded_  his cheating scheme was one thing, but what I couldn't understand was why he had recorded the whole damn thing on  _Eren's_  camera, an object that was seemingly just as important to the kid as food and water was. Did this Jean guy and his little playmate really think that they were going to get away with a lie like that for long?

"I turned off my camera, slipped it back into its bag, zipped everything up, and headed off to the sweet sixteen." By this point, each of Eren's responses have been through remarkable stages of varying emotion. When addressing the issue, he had been so close to his breaking point that I had already seen the highly hung chandeliers crashing within him. But now, he was decently mellow. His aggressiveness had died down, and he no longer looked as if he were fighting back tears. From an overflow of combating feelings to none at all, when Eren had momentarily mustered up the will to rest his eyes upon mine, I was looking into something that wasn't even there. Eren's soft gaze, it was empty.

Understandably, he sighed heavily, before he proceeded to slam me with more of the details. "At the party, I took some pictures of the birthday girl, a few angles of the cake, a handful of panorama shots of the venue, and a couple snaps of her presents. I mean, the folks that hired me said that the pictures were lovely when I showed them off at the end of the celebration, but I didn't agree. They weren't my best work, and it bothered me that someone would accept my mediocrity over my perfection. I wanted to do everything over again, in more ways than one, but that was a wish that no birthday candle could ever grant me."

Without even asking, Eren openly told me about what had happened after he'd gone back to his apartment when the party was over. "Jean was there, when I got home. He must have just showered, because his towel had been slung over the back of the sofa and the room reeked of his body wash's intoxicating aroma. As usual, he greeted me with a kiss and asked me how my day had been, but I didn't say anything to him in return. Not yet, at least. Instead, I simply and silently sat next to him and proceeded to unzip my camera bag. In doing so, I told him how I'd taken pictures at some girl's sweet sixteen that day. He must have figured that I was eager to show him the shots from the party, but the second my camera had been turned on, I immediately began to flash through the photos I'd previously taken until I stopped directly on the image that had been burned into my brain. And you know what? I'm pretty sure that as I was scrolling through those pictures, or maybe even sooner than that, Jean could tell that I'd already figured him out.

 _'His name is Marco,'_ he said to me. I didn't even have to ask, he just started blabbering about everything he had done behind my back and in my bed with this guy. Apparently he was a part-time model that had been transferred to the same agency where Jean worked. He and Jean hit it off right away and immediately became best friends. But you see, the thing that I didn't realize is that Marco's transfer to his agency hadn't been a recent one...and neither were the beginnings of their affair."

"What do you mean by that?" I almost didn't want to hear the answer to that question. even if it was my own, but before I could revoke my words, Eren had already spoken up.

"Jean and Marco had been sleeping together for over a year."

And that's why I didn't want to hear it. I knew something like that must have been coming, but damn, over a year? From what I could gather, Eren and Jean had been dating for somewhere around two and a half years. The fact that Jean had been avidly cheating on Eren for nearly half the duration of their entire relationship was absolutely disgusting.

"You know," Eren murmured, grabbing my attention with the sound of his gentle voice, "I kept blaming myself for driving him to be with another man, at first. I was under the impression that everything had been okay between us, but that clearly wasn't the case. We kissed all the time and always told one another how happy we made each other. And, uh, the...the sex was great, too. At least, I thought it was..."

I was a bit surprised to hear that Eren had initially claimed the blame for the act of infidelity. The only persons ever at fault for such a thing were the ones committing the crime, not the other way around.

"But that was only at first," Eren quickly clarified. "After trying my best to keep myself calm and composed, I pretty much exploded at him. I started yelling at him and hitting him, asking him how and why he could do such a thing to me, to  _us_ , over and over again. I know I keep saying this, but do you know what he did after that? Do you know what he did, when I asked him to answer me? When I told him to tell me something that was crazy enough for me to hate him, but intelligent enough for me to understand?"

I honestly couldn't fathom what the idiot would have to say for himself, and so I nodded to give Eren the go ahead.

Rounding his legs so that they hung loosely from the tattoo chair, Eren gave out another heavy sigh - one so weighted that his shoulders slumped backward - before answering his own question. "It's funny, because my self-hatred hadn't been all that far off the mark. Essentially, he told me that one person wasn't enough for someone like him. He needed more  _variety_  in his life, and switching things up a bit in the bedroom just wasn't going to cut it. He needed someone  _new_ , someone who understood what it meant to be involved in an  _open_  relationship. Basically, he needed someone who could give him all of the things that I couldn't. All Jean ever needed in his life wasn't someone like me; it was someone like Marco."

It's interesting how the people who cheat never seem to have a justifiable reason for it. Growing tired of your partner is not a valid excuse, nor is the claim that a sense of new excitement was in need of being established. What it all boils down to is a twisted perception of greed, one that hinders the person committing the act from ever realizing that what they had done, or were currently doing, was wrong.

It was a lot to take in, everything that Eren had just told me. Not only had he trusted me enough to talk about something so private (then again, what was "private" with that boy?), but he'd taken the time to remember even the most minor details of a part of his life he must have only been yearning to forget. Realize that was when I felt a sweeping wave of a guilt starting to take over. It wasn't because I felt responsible for what had happened or for making Eren share something so difficult with me - after all, he had been the one who wanted to talk in the first place. My feelings of guilt were insensitive and horribly placed, because even after all that had been said and done, I just had to know  _when_  Eren's tattoo had actually become a part of his story and I would be done. Actually, I also wanted to know how long he'd had his ink before discovering the truth about his ex-boyfriend, as well. In order to feel better about myself for asking him something that had the potential of being relatively touchy, I made an internal promise. If the margin from getting his tattoo was anywhere from one to eight weeks before their break-up, Eren's next appointment would be free of charge.

Still swinging his legs and not really saying much else for the time being, Eren seemed to be waiting for me to speak in return, and so I did. He probably wasn't expecting to be acknowledged with an inquiry, though. "You've given me more than enough perspective of why removing this tattoo is so important to you, but Eren, you haven't really told me anything about why you wanted to get one in the first place."

He made a small sound of agreement, and while reaching his hand back to scratch at his neck, I got a good glimpse of his "Freiheit" tattoo again. Damn it, I still needed to ask him what that thing meant. "You've got a point, Levi, but do you  _really_ want to hear about it again? I mean, it'll probably gross you out. Not only that, but I've already kind of told you some things about my tattoo, and we both felt like throwing up, so..."

A tattoo story grossing out a tattoo artist? Was Eren being for real? Yes, the whole "pet name" thing had been repulsive, but there had to be more to Eren's tattoo than being just some kinky sex stamp. Taking a peek over at one of the clocks that hung proudly against the wall, I said, "Well, if you don't want to tell me, then we'd better cut the chit-chat and go home. It's already 9PM."

Looking at the clock for himself, Eren clicked his tongue and agreed that he would give me the brief rundown of his tattoo to start off, and only add in more details if I asked for them. That sounded fair enough to me, so with a quick head nod, he was given the green light to continue.

"Well, Jean's tattoo wasn't my first, so don't hold your breath; it's not anything super corny like that. However, even after only dating him for a few months, I had already been stupidly considering the possibility of getting a tattoo inspired by him; my only problem was that I didn't know what to get."

"You act fast, don't you?" I snickered.

"Yeah,  _too_  fast," he grumbled. "Anyway, I don't know if I should keep going or not. The next part is kind of..."

Gross, right? I had a feeling I knew where he was going with this already. "You're going to talk about those Godawful pet names of yours again, aren't you?"

Laughing awkwardly, Eren began to rub at his neck again. Because of that, literally every single portion of my being was telling me no. I didn't want to hear anything else that had to do with those trashy, illness-inducing names, but it was just my luck that my disgust didn't do enough to curb my curiosity. No matter the discomforts I had to endure by listening to him, I needed to hear his tattoo's tale in full. And besides, the completed background knowledge of Eren's tattoo was the main reason why I'd agreed to do him this service to begin, so there was really no sense in denying him the right to the rest of his story.

"Well, yeah, kind of..."

Treating Eren's hesitance like a fruit fly, I brushed it off and convinced him that I was ready for anything left that he had to throw at me - except punches, of course. That got a genuine laugh out of him, at least.

"Alright, you asked for it, so I guess I don't really have a choice," Eren said, swinging one of his legs back onto the tattoo chair. He held it there, hugging his thigh flush up against his chest, while his eyes shifted away from mine and locked onto the floor. "You see, the first time we did 'stuff' together, Jean had a strange habit of holding his hand firmly against my hip. Every time I, uh...I moaned or something, he'd get nervous that he was hurting me and would loosen his grip, but in reality, his hand had felt  _really good_ right where it was. Basically, after our first night together, that part of my body became  _his_ territory, which made it the perfect spot for a tattoo, right?"

"Right." Eren was making good enough sense so far, but that still didn't tell me why the horse had to have been such a vital part of his tattoo. Sure enough, though, it was the next thing he talked about.

"So," Eren said, clearing his throat after just the first word, "you already mentioned our pet names and stuff, so I'm pretty sure you can take a guess as to why I wanted a tattoo with both Jean's name  _and_ the silhouette of a horse." He was right, I'd already caught on, but even if that was the case, he said his answer aloud anyway. "It was because Jean was my...yeah. I don't need to tell you about that again, I'm sure you remember what he was quite vividly. But really, that wasn't the  _only_ reason why I wanted the horse to be there. You see, Jean may be a model, but his face is kind of long and not really shapely. Also, if he pulls his lips back like this-" Eren took a moment to obnoxiously demonstrate, "-he looks  _exactly_ like a horse. No joke. It's actually really weird."

Just when I thought I knew everything that I needed to know about this kid, I was still learning more about him. He was a person who acted quickly, meaning he probably never thought  _any_  of his actions through; he was a person who paid special and careful attention to what felt good and to what didn't, e.g. Jean's hand against his hip; and he was a person who liked to put labels on things, because for whatever reason, having Jean's name on his hip just wasn't enough; he had to go the whole nine yards. However, even after gathering up all of this personal information about him, Eren still hadn't answered the two questions I'd been most curious about. Then again, maybe it was because I hadn't specifically  _asked_  him about them yet. With the conversation reaching a bit of a standstill, I propped my elbows onto my knees and decided to get the ball rolling again. "What did your ex say, when he saw the tattoo?" That was my first question. "Was it a surprise to him, or did you talk to him about getting one beforehand?"

"Oh, no," Eren said, resting his chin against his kneecap, "I totally wanted it to be a surprise for him. The thing is, though, I had no idea if he was going to appreciate it or not. Like, maybe he wasn't into the whole tattooing-your-boyfriend's-name-onto-your-body kind of thing, you know? Anyway, after I finished actually getting the tattoo, you probably know better than anyone else that I had to hide it from him for at least a day or two until it healed up and didn't make my hip look like smudged up crap. So yeah, with that in mind, I thought it would be tricky to keep my tattoo a secret from him, considering just how often we always ended up being naked, or at least shirtless, around our apartment for one reason or another, but I somehow managed to keep it under wraps all the way up until the big reveal."

The big reveal, huh? Putting it that way made it sound interesting. "And how did you go about doing that?"

"Like we did with all important news that needed to be shared, I guided him onto the sofa and told him to unbutton my pants. He was probably under the impression that I was in the mood for something else, so when he saw the ink on my hip, he was stunned to silence by it. Well, at first. When the idea had finally sunk in, he was asking me all sorts of questions about it. He wanted to know if it was real, if it had hurt, how long it took for me to get it, how long I'd actually  _had_  it, and  _why_ I wanted to get it, so my answers went a little something like this: yes, it's real; no, it didn't hurt; it took about four or five hours; I've had it for two days; and because I love you."

I noticed that Eren had bit the corner of his lip, after admitting his last answer. Love was a dangerous thing, especially when it drove those who were entangled in its sensitive snares to do something as permanent as a body modification.

"That was actually the first time we said 'I love you' to each other, too. I guess it just never crossed our minds to actually say it out loud before, you know? But yeah, that's pretty much where the rest of the answer to that question starts getting bumped up in rating due to its content, so I think I should stop right there."

Good call. I really didn't want to think about it, but the fact that I knew more than was necessary about Eren's sex life with his previous boyfriend was a bit unsettling. Actually, it was  _very_ unsettling. "Are you serious?" I scoffed. "What were you two, freaking rabbits?"

Eren laughed bitterly at that. It was cold sound, one that was obviously forced, making it difficult for me to hear. "Yeah, I guess..." There was an air of hesitance before he spoke up again, and this time, he wasn't looking at the floor, or the ceiling, or even his own two feet. With eyes that matched the magnificence of the morning sun, portraying a shade of gold so precious that it posed the potential to be priced, what Eren was looking at was  _me_.

"I thought we were in love."

Thought. He  _thought_  they were in love. As in, at that particular point in time, Eren had been persuaded to believe that there was something incredibly special between him and Jean. But that wasn't the truth. No matter how deeply and passionately Eren wanted to think he and Jean were involved with one another, that would never be the case. As he mentioned, it was only a thought.

Not feeling up to abusing any bushes by beating around them, I got right to my next and final question. It was an odd feeling to have bottled up inside of me, but I decided long before Eren started answering my questions that he would receive some sort of sympathy from me after all of this was over. I didn't know how I was going to make it work per say, but after all, he was just a kid. Maybe a small pat on the shoulder and a genuine statement would be enough for him. The again, depending on his answer to my last question, he just might end up getting himself a free removal session. "I'm sorry for changing the subject, but if you don't mind me asking, how long after you showed Jean your tattoo did you find out that he had been cheating on you?"

There it was again. There was that somber look that made me wonder just how a kid with so much spark and sass could crumble at the drop of a few choice words. Letting his leg slide off the edge of the extended chair, Eren breathed in a way that spoke conclusion. This was it. We'd come full circle. This was the end of what had become the very interesting, very disturbing, and very heartbreaking story behind Eren's "temporary" tattoo.

"I found out the very next day."

And with that, Eren just earned himself a free tattoo removal. Not just one session, either. I was going to remove the entire damn thing from him for free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here! 
> 
> Well, there you have it! Everything you needed to know about Eren's relationship with Jean and his tattoo have been tied up in this chapter! I'd also like to apologize for its length, seeing as it's a bit shorter than I typically like my chapters to be, but the main purpose of this chapter was really just to piece together all of the loose ends of Eren's past that I really didn't get to cover in the last chapter. We'll be pushing forward from now on, I promise! (:
> 
> Anyways, that's more than enough rambling for me! I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> And as always, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	7. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mint chocolate chip, sprinkles, and cherries.

There are certain times in this thing called life where you can have something really good going for you at one moment, only to have it all go wrong the next. It's like karma is standing on your front porch, just waiting for you to open the door and let him in. "You've had it good for too long," he would say, "and we need to change that," because that's the lurking danger involved in relationships; you let people  _in_. You let them see the sides of yourself that you weren't even aware you had in the first place, sides you'd hate to show to anyone else but the ones you love. It's because of that, being in love is a strength just as much as it is a vulnerability, and Eren has had the unfortunate pleasure of having karma pay him a visit.

I felt bad for the kid, I really did. Sure, he had his spurts of being annoying as Hell, but today, he was somewhat tolerable. Even though I learned more than I probably should have about his relationship with his ex-boyfriend, hearing Eren talk for so long made me feel closer to him. Great, that's just great. All I ever needed in life was to feel a connection with this idiot.

With my fingers gravitating toward my skull, I started massaging my forehead therapeutically. Not being able to completely comprehend how one person could be so disgusting was giving me a headache. Not missing a beat, Eren must have taken my discomfort to notice, because he asked, "Hey, are you okay? I know I kind of said a lot. Maybe it was too much...?"

Lifting my head only slightly, the spaces between my fingers giving me the allowance to peer at him, I reassured him by saying, "You're fine and you didn't talk too much. I'm just trying to wrap my head around everything you've said, that's all."

Eren nodded. "It's a lot to take in, isn't it? My new roommate didn't believe me, when I first told him about it. Then again, he doesn't believe a lot of the things I tell him, so it's whatever."

I didn't feel like asking what he'd meant by that, because I didn't feel like getting into an entirely new conversation. This had been the latest I'd stayed at the shop in a while, and I just wanted to finish locking up so I could head home already, but that wasn't going to happen if Eren and I kept chatting away like two girls at a slumber party.

Sensing my sudden onset of impatience, Eren sighed an apology and slid off of the tattoo chair. "Sorry. I didn't realize how long it would take me to tell you everything. But thanks for listening."

I followed suit by standing up from my stool, only to realize that my lower back had gone stiff. Damn, my posture must have been horrible. "Don't mention it," I said, almost disinterestedly. "I wouldn't have agreed to listen to you talk if I didn't want to listen. I would have just told you to stop."

"That's true," Eren agreed, his words being carried by a small laugh. "I guess I should ask how much I owe you now, huh? And do you prefer cash or credit? Either way, I have both."

"Neither."

Eren was visibly taken aback by my statement, so much so that he briefly became a character in a television sitcom. Looking to his left as if there was someone to express his confusion to, he turned to me a second later and asked, "I'm sorry? No cash, or credit? Do you only take checks, then?"

Oh, Eren's reaction had been too good for words. Before clarifying what I'd meant, I folded my arms and shook my head. "Neither, meaning don't owe me anything."

The face that Eren made when he heard that would have been the cue for the audience's laugh track to play. Was it really that difficult for him to understand? I was going to remove his tattoo for free, it wasn't that big of a deal...or maybe it was. Just then, I'd reached the realization that no more than two weeks ago, I wouldn't have been caught dead agreeing to do a tattoo removal. Add a little bit of time and a dumb kid with an aggressive attitude to the equation, and you had me offering one up for free. I started questioning my sanity.

"But that doesn't make any sense," Eren persisted, and he was right. It  _didn't_ make any sense. "Of course I owe you for this, Levi. You're not just doing me a favor, this is your _job_. I'm not going to  _not_  pay you for doing your job."

Unfolding my arms, I held a finger up to him. "Correction: I am a tattoo artist, therefore, my job is to provide high-quality designs and skilled artistry to my clients. Removing tattoos is  _not_  a part of my job. It is not in my contract and it does not coincide with my policies. If I choose to refuse your payment, that is my choice and you have no other option than to accept it. Understood?" I probably could have phrased that differently, but the fact of the matter was that it got my point across. I was being absolutely serious, and no money meant  _no money_  - not even in check form.

Everything about Eren's demeanor screamed hesitance. He looked as if he wanted to speak, but just as his lips parted and began to quiver with willingness, he seemed to have succumb to a state of severe contemplation. Finally, after his third or fourth attempt, he managed to spit out a response. "I...don't know what to say."

I wasn't going to put words into his mouth for him, and so I shrugged. "You could say thank you. There's always that."

"Well, yeah!" There was a hint of sarcasm in Eren's tone, as he said that. "But thank you isn't enough! I mean, you're doing something  _so_  incredible for me, something that I'm going to appreciate for the rest of my life, so let me, like, give you a tip, or something. Or dinner? Can I at least buy you dinner?"

"I already ate." Which was true, I  _did_  already eat. I had heated up an instant meal during Eren's hardcore nap of steel.

"Well, I haven't," Eren continued to protest. "At least let me treat you to  _something_. You could order off of the children's menu, for all I care. I just need to do this, okay?"

The way Eren had phrased that sounded a tad peculiar.  _'I just need to do this.'_ He didn't  _need_ to do anything, not as far as I was concerned; however, he thought otherwise, apparently. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

This was going to take all night. Dragging out a sigh, I rested my hand against the base of my neck and elaborated. "Why do you feel that way? Why do you feel like this is something that you  _have_  to do? I made you a pretty damn good offer just now. Why can't you just accept it and move on?"

"Because I know that it's a pity offer. While I'm both flattered and grateful for not having to pay, quite frankly, I'm also kind of insulted."

Wow, that was definitely not the response I had been expecting. Then again, who was I fooling? I never knew what to expect with this kid; he was just one surprise after the other. One thing was for certain, though, and it was that Eren was a man who spoke his mind. His mind may have been obnoxious when it was put into words, but hey, I had to appreciate his honesty.

"Fine, then," I said. My response had been mixed with slight amusement. "If that's how it's going to be, I won't put up a fuss. You're obviously as adamant in your ways, as I am in mine, right?"

Eren nodded in agreement. And so, walking past him to the main wall where most of the light switches, as well as the keys for lock-up were kept, I flicked off each switch individually and watched as the space gradually grew darker. Soon, there was nothing left but the streetlights and the head bulbs of passing cars to illuminate the shop. Even in the absence of light, I could still clearly shape the outlines of Eren's confused complexion. Did he not understand what I was implying? This kid really required an explanation for everything, didn't he?

Turning on my heel, I leaned against the frame of the front door. For whatever reason, Eren still didn't seem to be catching my drift. He stood exactly where I had left him, seeming to be in need of further instruction. Fair enough. Grabbing the lock-up keys by their lanyard and twisting them around my wrist, I beckoned him with a small flick of my fingers, one that would hopefully entice him to comply for once in his life. "Now that that's settled, I'll accept your offer. Take me out to dinner."

 

* * *

 

After the shop had been locked up and Eren and I had gravitated ourselves onto the loose gravel of the parking lot, he asked me if I had any restaurants in mind. The fact that I had no appetite wasn't really helping the matter, so I simply directed the question back onto him. "Anywhere is fine. Finding a place that's still open is going to be the tough part, though."

Eren seemed concerned, after hearing that. "Still open? What, do restaurants close early around here, or something?"

"Uh, did you forget how late it is? By the time we actually get somewhere, it'll almost be 10PM, and that's typically when most restaurants close."

"Hmm..." Eren pinched his chin with his thumb and his index finger, before slipping both of his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "Let's just get ice cream, then. There's gotta be a place around here that sells ice cream, right?"

When Eren said things like that, it made me feel as if he wasn't familiar with this part of town. Everyone and their grandma knew about the old-fashioned ice cream parlor down on the street corner. It was located just a couple blocks away from the tattoo shop, which made it rest on that fine line of being too far to walk to, and too close to drive to.

"Yeah, there is," I said, pointing in said direction of the parlor. "It's not too far from here, but if we were to walk, it would probably take us about twenty minutes or so. Are you up for that, or do you want me to drive?"

Shaking his head, Eren began to slowly walk toward where my finger had led him. Stopping on the junction where the gravel had smoothed into solid tar, he tossed me a quick glance from over his shoulder and said, "It's a nice night. It's not raining, and it's not too chilly. I say we walk."

Hey, if that's what he wanted, that was fine by me; I wouldn't have suggested otherwise. Without a word, I kicked up some gravel as I quickened my step and met up with Eren on the junction. After that, we began to walk.

Being someone who always managed to put up a fuss when it came to most things that had to do with Eren, I had to say, walking wordlessly by his side as we watched the nighttime cars pass us by was actually kind of nice. It felt refreshing, not being forced to talk, and on the same notion, I wasn't feeling the heavy weight of an uncomfortable silence. I really hadn't thought that he and I had reached that level in our relationship yet, or that we even  _had_ a relationship at all. Well, whatever. It was nice, either way.

Because Eren and I had strolled along at our own, leisurely pace, it ended up talking us twenty-five minutes to get to the parlor instead of twenty. Not that big of a difference, but a difference big enough for me to realize that - oh, crap, the parlor closed at 10, and it was already 9:58PM.

"We have to hurry up." I must have spoken up too suddenly, because Eren reacted outrageously with a start. Okay, maybe not  _outrageously_. All he had done was jump, and it was kind of...no. I refused to let myself think like that.

"What?" he asked. He was slightly at a loss of breath. "Why?"

"Because the parlor closes in two minutes and we're still a block away."

Eren cussed and kicked his footing into high gear. Even though I had been the unspoken leader for most of our walk, he had quickly stripped me of my title. If there was one thing I could say about his reaction, it would be that Eren must have been incredibly passionate about a lousy scoop of ice cream.

Catching up with him had been the easy part; having to burst through the front doors of the parlor and nearly spooking the living daylights out of one of the part-time workers? Not so much. With that being said, the interior was just like I remembered. Everything about it, from the wacky walls and the quirky seating arrangements, right down to the speckled flooring made out of tacky tiles, everything practically screamed the late 50s. Because of its expressive individuality that made it different from all of the other ice cream shops in the area, it was no wonder why this place had become so popular, and it still baffled me how Eren had known absolutely nothing about it.

After regaining some of her composure, the docile teenager scampered around to get herself positioned behind the counter, before welcoming us to the shop. "What can I get for you?"

That was a good question. I couldn't remember the last time I had actually consumed ice cream. It had to have been well over a year ago. Just because  _I_  was having trouble deciding on what I wanted, that didn't mean that Eren was bound by the same conflict. In fact, he seemed to have his order ready right away.

"I'll have two scoops of mint chocolate chip on a sugar cone. Oh, and rainbow sprinkles, too, please."

Mint chocolate chip and rainbow sprinkles? That sounded like a nasty combination to me. But even if I was disgusted by it, I wasn't the one who would be eating it, which left me with absolutely no say in Eren's odd ice cream choices. I'd be lying if I said that it didn't get me thinking, though. What his taste was like in other things. Did he like spicy foods? Or maybe he was more into sweets?

What was I doing? I didn't have time to think about this. It was my turn to order.

As Eren stepped aside, giving me a chance to get a better look at the variety of different flavor options, I noticed the young worker's demeanor beginning to shift. Now that  _I_ was her customer, she seemed to become more uptight than before. Half of my brain was telling me that it must have been the tattoos that were putting her off, but the other half was convinced that it had to have been my overall intimidation. I'd never be certain which half was actually correct, though. It could have been both halves, and it could have been neither; that didn't stop me from finally choosing to get two scoops of black cherry ice cream - topped with even  _more_ black cherries - in a cup, as opposed to a cone.

With both of our orders rung up and accounted for, it was time to head back outside. It would have been nice to sit around and enjoy the retro atmosphere for a bit longer, but it was already five minutes past closing. As a shop owner myself, I knew the annoyances of having to deal with customers after hours, and so we slipped out through the front doors without making anymore trouble for the workers. Hey, even if we couldn't eat our ice cream inside, at least there were a few benches, along with a low-set brick wall for us to sit on. Like Eren had mentioned earlier, it was a nice night, so why not enjoy it to its fullest?

Following Eren's lead, we sat down on the wall and began eating our ice cream. While the silence between us may have been comfortable while we were walking, now that the sounds of slurping and sucking were added into the mix, it started to feel a bit strange.

"There are no stars out tonight," Eren noticed. I looked over at him. "Then again, the stars never seem to come out around here."

"We live in the suburbs, what do you expect?" I dug my spoon into my cup and scooped out a large chunk of cherry. Before popping it into my mouth, I added, "Saying things like that makes you sound like you're not from around here."

"Because I'm not." And there it was, the answer to my lingering question. "I just moved here at the start of the spring semester. I've only been living in this town for about three months or so."

That explained so many things, like why Eren hadn't known about the ice cream parlor, or how he had to research local tattoo shops in his area to find mine. I was about to ask him where he was originally from, but was quickly sidetracked when he took another lick from his cone.

Watching him slide his way up and down the sides of his icy treat, my main focus was on his tongue. I'm not sure how I hadn't noticed it before, but Eren's tongue was pierced. I was already well aware of the fact that he had some piercings on his ears, so "shock" probably wasn't the best word to describe how I felt towards this new discovery. Taken aback, maybe? Intrigued?

Eren stopped in mid-lick, when he realized that I had been watching him. With his tongue still pressed to his cone, he sounded like a kid who had licked a metal pole on a cold day, as he tried to talk. "Uh, is something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing. I was just noticing that your tongue is pierced."

For the love of God, Eren smirked at that. Licking the rest of the way up his cone, he swallowed the ice cream that had pooled on his palate and stuck his tongue back out. That was gross. Some of his sprinkles had gotten stuck beneath his piercing, whereas the rest of his tongue was coated in a thin layer of green food dye. Yes, definitely an attractive sight to see.

Even after slipping his tongue back into his mouth, Eren couldn't seem to stop smirking. Ugh, what an arrogant little brat. "Do you like piercings, Levi?"

"I wouldn't say that I like them, but I do notice them." I was into a different kind of needle; a tattoo needle. Piercing my ears or any other part of my body was a thought that had honestly never crossed my mind.

Shrugging, Eren suggested, "Maybe you should think about getting some. Personally, I think you would look good with snake bites."

Things got a kind of quiet after that. Unfazed by the lack of conversation, Eren continued to lick and lap at his sprinkled ice cream cone. Was I the only one who thought that eating and silence was a horribly uncomfortable combination?

I was relieved when Eren quickly conjured up a new topic for us to converse about, but what I wasn't so grateful for was that it ended up being the start of a discussion that I wasn't so sure I wanted to get into. "You know," he began, as he collected a few sprinkles onto his tongue, "I talked a lot about myself tonight, but I still know very little about you."

Fitting the spoon back into my mouth and sucking on the plastic, I asked, "Yeah? What's your point?"

"Well, I obviously want to get to know you better, and since I sort of slept through my chance to ask you questions and stuff, why not now?"

Like I said, this wasn't really a discussion I was up for, but it was better than having to listen to the sounds of Eren's tongue slurping and slapping against his ice cream cone in silence. "I mean, if that's what you want, then I don't have a problem with it." I had a slight problem with it. "What do you want to know?"

Suddenly seeming very interested, Eren scooted himself across the wall so that he was seated closer to me. Legs crossed and ready to listen, he said, "Tell me a little bit about why you wanted to become a tattoo artist. Why not just a regular artist? You know, with canvases and portraits and stuff?"

Oh, if only Eren knew about the canvases I had back at my apartment. If only he knew...

Sighing, I shoved my spoon back into my cup and set it down on the wall. Things were about to get rather personal; I had to prepare myself. I began by saying, "I had my heart set on becoming a quote, unquote 'regular artist' from a very young age. I would stick my hands into anything that I could find and I would just... _create_. People used to say that I was so inspirational, and that my imagination would get me far in life. But sure enough, this funny thing called 'getting older' started to happen, and I guess that's when reality finally hit...and it hit pretty damn hard.

In high school, I was made fun of for drawing in my text books and for taking as many art courses as I possibly could. Eventually, it got to the point where I dropped everything. I didn't want to amount to nothing but the starving artist everyone claimed I would be. It had been so drilled into my brain that art was a one-way ticket to homelessness that soon enough, I'd completely forgotten how much of a passion I had for it. Luckily, Hanji was there to remind me."

"Did you and Hanji meet in high school?" Eren wondered.

"College," I corrected him. "She was an art major, and I was undecided. Because of her, I was reminded of who I truly was. I was an artist at heart, and no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, no suit-and-tie career was ever going to change that."

I continued to tell Eren some of the stockpile stories I had, stories from back when I was in college. There was one story in particular that I knew he would get a kick out of. "When we were being taught how to draw the anatomy, one of our assignments was the paint a particular part of someone else's body and explain why you chose that part. It goes without saying that Hanji and I ended up being partners. For my body part, she chose to paint my arm, the significance of it being that I had just recently gotten my first tattoo on my arm. But for her body part, she ended up sprawling herself across dorm room bed, and demanded that I not only chose one of her body parts, but all of them. Essentially, she wanted me to paint her like 'one of my French girls'."

I was right. After hearing that ridiculous quote, Eren snorted. Because of that, he ended up getting a bit of ice cream on the tip of his nose. I really didn't want to admit, in fact, I tried to force myself against it, but it was kind of adorable how Eren made a huge fuss about his dirty nose, making sure that he had wiped it all off. Just the way that he nudged his face into back of his sleeve, he really reminded me of...a kitten. Crap.

When he had finally settled, Eren asked, "Did you do it?"

"Do what? Paint Hanji naked?" He nodded. "Yeah, I did. It took around five or six hours, but I ended up getting the highest grade in the class for one of the most controversial masterpieces of the semester."

As Eren continued to laugh, I took the opportunity to finish my melting ice cream; it would have been a waste to let Eren's treat go to waste. Popping the last of the cherries into my mouth, I chewed it thoroughly and waited to see if the kid had any other questions. For the time being, however, he seemed to be very focused on finishing up the rest of his ice cream as well, which was threatening to melt down his arm if he wasn't careful enough.

While waiting, I let the ghost of the nightly breeze tickle my nose and play with the hairs of my fringe. I felt more relaxed than I ever thought I would have, sitting next to that brat. But you know, after the deeply personal evening we'd spent together, being in the wake of his presence was almost enjoyable...almost.

Shortly after I had set my cup aside, Eren began biting into his cone, and it wasn't much longer after that initial  _crunch_  that he was done, too. Truth be told, it would have been nice to sit around for a little while longer, but with twenty-five minutes of walking ahead of us, it was better if we left.

The striking difference between our walk to and back from the parlor was that, this time around, we weren't silent. Eren and I resumed our talk about my college days, and after speaking so much nonsense about my passions and my drives, it was no wonder when he asked, "Levi, what's your biggest dream? Like, what's something that you really want to achieve?"

The sense of deja vu was uncanny, seeing as Hanji had asked me the  _very same_  thing right before we had graduated. Even though we both grew older and our interests may have been slightly different from what they were back then, my dream was something that would always remain a constant. It was never going to change.

Stepping onto the thick gravel of the unpaved parking lot, I turned to Eren and looked directly at him. We'd been speaking through sideways glances for most of the night, that it almost felt odd to hold such focused eye contact with him. And you know what everyone says, right? It's dangerous to look directly at the sun.

"My dream has always been to paint the town," I started quietly, however, my tone gradually grew louder as my speech progressed. "Not a portrait of the town, but the town itself. I want to drown this suburb in color and make thr city feel psychedelic. I don't even really know  _why_  I want to do it, but it's always been a fantasy of mine, so becoming a tattoo artist was the next best thing for me - I figured that if I can't paint the town itself, I can paint all of its people."

For what felt like an eternity, Eren simply stared at me in awe. Had my dream baffled him? Did it freak him out? No, that couldn't be it. He wouldn't have been smiling if he had felt uncomfortable or confused. Stepping closer, he murmured, "I think that's an awesome dream to have," before slipping his hands into his back pockets. I doubted that I was mistaken, but within those very short moments, there had been a definite shift in the atmosphere between us. Somehow, things had gone from being open and relaxed to feeling slightly like a predator and his prey.

Eren had gone from standing fifteen  _feet_ away to standing fifteen  _inches_ away, and just as I was about to step back and ask him why he'd felt the need to be so close to me, he questioned, "Levi, do you want to know what my dream is?"

Tonight had been a night of learning new things. I'd learned things about Eren that he surely wouldn't have shared with a stranger on the streets, and he learned things about me that I typically liked to keep to myself, so why not learn what his dream was, as well? As much as it pained me to admit - so many painful admissions - we were already inevitably becoming closer...closer... _closer_... _too close_.

Before I could even blink, there was the soothing sensation of something metallic and wet sliding across my lips, a sensation that was met with the feeling of something much softer, something much more skilled. Lips. These were lips that were playing with mine, and just as I'd become accustomed to their presence, the fragile feeling had stopped and Eren had pulled away.

I'd never be certain why he had felt inclined to kiss me that night. Although our trip to the ice cream parlor had been reasonably questionable, it hadn't been a date. Unless, did Eren see it that way? I would have asked, but he was already stalking backwards toward his car.

Wearing the proudest little smirk on his face, he shot me a wave and left me with a few words of parting. If I'd been so caught up in the sentiment of our evening that I'd forgotten how much of a little brat he truly was, his following statement served as a grim reminder of that.

"If you want to know what my dream is, you're going to have to figure it out for yourself. Oh, and that kiss just now? That was a hint."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here! 
> 
> Alright, I'm much happier with the length of this chapter! Again, I really apologize for last week's shorter chapter, but hopefully the contents of this update made up for that! And speaking of its contents, I wonder what Eren's dream is, hmm? (;
> 
> On another note, the pacing of this chapter was quite slow, but I really enjoyed writing for it, and I hope you all enjoyed it, as well!
> 
> And of course, thank you for taking the time to read! I always appreciate it!
> 
> \- Chappy


	8. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why had it taken until now for me to accept that there was something wrong with all of this?

Eren's kiss hadn't been my first kiss from another man. Truth be told, it hadn't been my second, or even my third. Sexuality had always been something that I'd never really paid much attention to anyway. I kissed whoever I felt like kissing and that was that. Love is defined by too many unnecessary labels and strict moral codes, yet lust has always been a gray area free-for-all. Have I experienced both? Maybe. Have I experienced neither? Quite possibly. The point of the matter is a point that brings us back to the very beginning: Eren's kiss hadn't been my first kiss from another man.

With that being said, Eren's kiss  _had been_ the first kiss, from either a man or a woman, to leave me absolutely dumbfounded.

Just before getting into his car, Eren had peered back at me and had shot me another Godawful grin. This kid was so full of himself, it wasn't even comprehensible. I folded my arms against my chest and held my ground regardlessly. When I habitually licked my dry lips, I cussed. Damn it, why did I do that? Not only had I made myself appear interested, but now I had to deal with the sharp taste of mint on my tongue.

I heard Eren chuckle. "Something the matter, Levi?"

"No. Go home."

Another chuckle. Another laugh. Another reminder of how annoying this kid actually was.

After Eren had finally stepped into his car, it took him about a minute to get himself situated, rev up the engine, and pull out of his parking spot. I listened to the sound of his tires grinding against the gravel as he began to drive away, but not before he edged closer to me and rolled down his window. Great. Now what?

"Can I help you?" I asked irritably.

Eren snickered again. How many times was this boy going to laugh? I didn't find anything about this scenario funny. "No, but I can help you."

"...Excuse me?" I didn't appreciate the way Eren had flipped my question around and brought it back to me. A sense of tension started prickling at the back of my neck.

Eren ran his hand along the smooth leather of his steering wheel, tapping his thumb to the dull rhythm of the radio music. "Your dream. About painting the town?"

"Uh, yeah? What about it?" Why was he bringing that up again? Hadn't the spotlight been shifted onto what  _his_  mystery dream was? Quite frankly, Eren's dream was probably a lot more interesting than mine if it's sole hint - for now - was a kiss.

Eren drummed his thumb one last time, before his expression became rather serious. I didn't understand what had caused the sudden change at first, but that was only until Eren had opened his mouth and said the words that would plague my thoughts until our next meeting.

"I'm going to help you make your dream a reality, Levi. I'm going to help you paint the town."

After Eren drove away, I climbed into my own car and sat at the wheel for nearly ten minutes without moving a muscle (except for my tongue. I accidentally licked my lips again, ugh). Eren was going to help me achieve my dream? That's what he'd said, but for the life of me, I couldn't understand  _why_. He thought my dream was awesome, I knew that much, but for him to actually want to strive to make it happen didn't make sense to me.

I don't remember when or how, but I managed to drive myself back to my apartment shortly after having that perplexing pondering session. With Eren's words still floating around in my head, I turned the corner and stepped into the bathroom; that's where I brushed away the taste of mint with even  _more_  mint.

Getting undressed and taking a shower seemed like a good idea, one that would get my mind off of everything, but I was a thinker. All I ever did was think, and for whatever reason, that notion was amplified when I was in the shower. There was only one time when my brain was set free and no longer bound by the burden of thoughts, and that was when I was painting.

But I didn't feel like painting tonight.

The thought of sticking my fists into tubs of paint and slapping them against a canvas normally would have aroused me endlessly, but tonight, I just wasn't feeling it. All I wanted to do was lay down on my bed and chase my head demons away without getting my fingers dirty.

_'I'm going to help you make your dream a reality, Levi.'_

Damn it.

_'I'm going to help you paint the town.'_

_Damn it_.

I shoved my face into my pillow and grumbled an array of expletives. Only two people in this world knew about that asinine fantasy of mine, and those people were Hanji and Eren. It had taken Hanji until the very end of our senior year for me to open up to her about it, but Eren? Roughly two weeks into our acquaintanceship and he had already discovered one of my most personal desires. I felt naked. I  _was_  naked.

I hadn't quite accomplished the shower part of my original idea, but I did end up getting undressed. Breathing heavily against the softness, I lifted my head and looked over at my nightstand where my phone was charging. Curiosity had me turning it on; muted annoyance had me shutting it back off. It was already midnight and I had to be awake in six hours. Super.

Placing my worries about the screw in my sleep schedule to rest, I began to meditatively focus on my surroundings. Drowning out Eren's words with a new set of thoughts and senses, I paid special attention to the way the bedsheets felt against my bare skin as I tossed and turned on top of them. This felt familiar. I curled my toes against the comforter and dug my fingers into the smooth plush of the mattress. That felt good. When I closed my eyes, it felt  _better_. While relaxation had been the primary goal of my lazy exercise, sleep did not come along with it.

I was up all night making love to my senses.

Somewhere around 6AM, my phone began to beep destructively and I jolted awake. For the first time in months, I had been awoken by a machine instead of by the sun. I was a bit perturbed, but only until I made an effort to look out the window. That's when I realized that my good friend the sun was hiding behind my even better friend, the clouds.

Sliding my finger along the smooth display screen of my cell, the incessant alarm silenced itself immediately. I unplugged my phone from its charger and began to blink away my fatigue. What day was it again? Wednesday? I couldn't remember, and just as I was about to check, my attention was drawn over to the three notifications that had piled up in the messaging application.

All three messages were from Hanji.

In the first message, she apologized for her behavior the other day and for trashing the shop in my absence. In the second message, she stated that she had intentions to arrive to work early the following day (meaning today) to clean up the mess she made. Lastly, she informed me that one of our clients had e-mailed her to cancel his sleeve coloring due to a stomach bug and that he would like to reschedule his appointment. Reading that final text reminded me that Eren had never officially scheduled his next session with me. I mean, I had a general idea of when I'd see his dumb face around my shop again, but nothing was in the books yet. But knowing him, he'd probably call us the night before he made up his mind about when he wanted to come in next.

I had already typed out half of my response to Hanji, when I backtracked and deleted the entire thing. If she had supposedly stuck to her statement, then she would be arriving at the shop soon. I'd hold off for a bit and talk to her in person. After all, I had a lot to tell her.

Brushing off the chill of the early morning as it prickled and played with my skin, I untangled myself from the bedsheets and began to stretch. For getting virtually no sleep last night, I felt decently refreshed. Not knowing what to blame, I attributed it to being nude.

My comforter had a hard time letting go of my hips. As I moved to stand, it draped against my waist like a flowing skirt of royalty before pancaking to the floor. How majestic. I'd pick it up later. I needed to shower first.

In the two steps that it took to get from the bedroom to the bathroom, I noticed something strange. The wooden floorboards beneath my feet, normally swept and polished to perfection, were speckled and splotched with paint. Purple paint. Only purple paint.

That was unsettling.

Curiosity had me following the tacky trail of partially dried paint, sluggishly and skeptically, as it led me toward the main room of my apartment. With each step, a subtle feeling of anxiety began to eat away at my stomach. I had been under the impression that my night had been a restless one, but if that were the case, why did I  _wake up_ this morning? How long was I asleep? How long was I asleep?  _How long was I asleep?_

I've been known to paint in my sleep before, but never like  _this_.

In prior instances when I'd discovered the aftermath of my sleep painting, the results had always been an absolute mess. There was never any theme or overall image on the canvas, just colors. Lots and lots of colors. Yellows and blues and reds and greens, never just  _one_...until today.

I didn't have as dramatic of a reaction as I probably should have, because I had long been desensitized to the bizarre masterpieces my unconscious mind liked to create. While I was admittedly impressed at my ability to  _construct_  an actual, distinguishable image in the wake of my somewhat sleeplessness, it was the image itself that had me clenching my forehead and turning for the shower.

Why was it that all my fingers wanted to paint was Eren?

I cursed. Why had it taken until I was in the shower for me to realize that my arms were bathed in streaks of crusty paint? That beneath my fingernails were caked with the same coating? Why had it taken until I had returned to my bedroom with a fresh set of eyes for me to realize that my bedsheets were smeared with violet? And why had it taken until now, until there were three, Eren-inspired canvases perched proudly in the corner of my apartment, for me to accept that there was something wrong with all of this? Something wrong with  _me_?

I had even more to tell Hanji now.

 

* * *

 

I skipped my morning coffee - I'd deeply regret that decision later - and drove directly to the shop. Luckily, I didn't have to play much of a waiting game with the red lights, but that hardly mattered. I'd still have to wait for Hanji.

Even if her text message read that she was coming in early, I ended up pulling into an empty lot. After parking in my spot, I turned off the ignition and leaned back in my seat. It took me a minute before I decided to reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I slowly swiped my finger across the display screen. 7:03AM. Early? Yeah, right.

I saw no use in waiting for her in the cramped space of my car. With little hesitance, I climbed out and headed for the front doors of the shop. As I was fumbling around to find the key that opened the front instead of the back, I heard the distinctive crunch of tires combing their treads against gravel and turned around just in time to see Hanji parking her car next to mine.

"Hey, you're late," I said, after she'd already climbed out of her car. She shook her head, as she walked toward me.

"Isn't that my line?" she sighed amusedly. "You've been late every day for the past few weeks. Yesterday, you came in after 4PM."

I could have responded to that snobbishly, with something along the lines of, "This is my shop. I can do whatever I want," but only shrugged instead. As annoying as she was, Hanji didn't deserve that kind of bossy attitude, nor would she accept it even if I had acted that way. Before we were employees, we were friends. Not even business labels could change that.

Unlocking the doors and letting myself inside, I flipped on the lights and looked around. Everything seemed kind of out of place and far too familiar. I felt like I had just been there, like going home and rolling around in my sheets had only been a fantasy and not a reality. Oh, but that painting made it real. Too real.  _Really_  real.

I tossed the keys onto the front counter and scanned our list of clients for the day. Aside from the person who called in, we had three other customers to tend to. The only problem was that all of their appointments weren't until the afternoon, meaning that it was going to be another boring morning until one of them showed up (the chances of a weekday walk-in were highly unlikely).

As I sat in the office chair that we kept stationed behind the front counter, Hanji breezed past me and headed into the back room. I assumed she was going to brew up a pot of coffee, or something, so I didn't question her about it. When she came back empty-handed, I gave her a funny look. "What was that for?"

"What was what for?" she asked, but she ended up answering her own question. "Oh, that? I was cleaning out the mini fridge. You always complain about it smelling, so... By the way, did you get my text messages?"

I nodded. "I did. If you're wondering why I didn't respond, it's because I figured we could just talk in person. I thought you were already going to be here, by the time I arrived."

"You did? Were you waiting long, then?"

"Nah, like, two minutes."

Hanji made a puffy sound with her lips, before saying, "Oh, that's nothing. You had me worried! When you say it like that, it makes me think that you were waiting for hours!"

"I haven't been up for hours." Well, sort of.

"Neither have I."

There was a chance that neither of us would own up to it, but there had been, understandably, an air of tension between the two of us since yesterday. Now that we were just shooting the breeze and small talking our way into our bigger, pending conversation, that tension had completely dissipated. It was times like this when I was reminded of just how close Hanji and I really were, whether we liked it or not.

Folding my arms against my chest, I sighed and began to lean back in my chair. Hanji cleared away a small space for herself on the counter and plopped down on top of it. Carelessly swinging her legs, she started to say, "So, about yesterday..."

I immediately assumed she was referring to the mess she'd made of my shop. "Don't worry about it. It's in the past."

"Oh! Well, yeah, there's that, too." Okay, maybe that  _wasn't_ what she'd been referring to. "I'm still really sorry about that, too. I turned my back for a second, and then boom! Everything was in ruins!" I hardly believed that was the case. "But what I was about to say, or rather  _ask_ , was how your session with Eren went."

And so it began. The wonderfully exotic tale about one of the most bizarre nights of my entire life - and I've had many - was about to be told.

"He fell asleep."

Hanji blinked. She blinked, and then she did the same thing that Eren had done where she looked to her left for some invisible entity's confirmation that she'd heard me correctly. "I'm sorry, what? He fell  _asleep_?"

I shrugged again. "Yeah. About ten minutes into the treatment, I would say."

Hanji just couldn't seem to wrap her head around the fact that Eren had a cringe-worthy pain tolerance. Slamming her palms against the counter, she gasped, "How is that even possible?! Tattoo removals  _really_ hurt!"

Again, I shrugged. Was that the third time I'd shrugged today? Thinking about it made me want to shrug again. "I was surprised by it, too. I kind of thought that he was being a little too quiet, and then I realized that it was because he'd fallen asleep."

"Wow, that's just...wow." Hanji recoiled her hands and rested them delicately against her lap. "So, tell me about what happened after that. I mean, he obviously woke up, right?"

"Yeah, but not for another, like..." I tried to do the math in my head with little success. I shouldn't have skipped out on my morning coffee. "...Three hours? Well, anyway, by the time he woke up, I'd already finished working on him. Afterward, I had enough time to give him ice treatment, eat dinner, tidy up a bit around the shop, and then  _close_  the shop."

Hanji gasped again. "He slept past closing?"

"Yup. Even he was pretty shocked, when I told him that."

"So, he eventually just woke up on his own?"

Nodding, I told Hanji about how I had planned to start rearranging the ink shelf when I heard him waking up. "He didn't seem to realize that he'd fallen asleep and was actually pretty bummed about it. He'd wanted to use his session as a time for us to talk and get to know each other better, I guess. Even though he knew how late it was, he asked if I'd be willing to listen to him talk for a bit, and so I did."

Hanji was particularly intrigued by that final statement, so much so that she requested further explanation. "Talk? What did you two talk about?"

A question like that coaxed me to sit forward in my chair and prop my elbows onto the counter. With cupped hands and a "this-stays-between-you-and-me" aura of expression, I said, "We talked about his ex-boyfriend."

I knew that with a heavy response like that, Hanji would ask me to elaborate again. Without waiting for her to do so, I continued to say, "He talked about how they met and things like that. I also learned that Eren is studying photography, or at least that he's really passionate about it. Going into all of the details that he went into would take forever, so I'll just say this: Eren's had to deal with something that no one in a relationship should ever have to go through."

Hanji wasn't dumb. She probably had a vague sense of what I was getting at, but just to be certain, she asked, "And what's that?"

I lowered my gaze. "Being utterly betrayed."

"Are you saying that he was...cheated on? That's really rough, wow." In the beat of a second, Hanji's expression had completely dropped. And the thing is, she hadn't even heard the worst of it yet. When I told her about how Eren had found Jean's sex tape on his camera and how he had gotten his tattoo a few days prior - with the  _reveal_  of his tattoo being only one day before the discovery - she cursed and began to shake her head. "All of that really happened? That's what he told you?"

"Basically, yeah."

Hanji didn't realize how fortunate she was to be hearing all of this information second-handedly. Unlike myself in most situations, she was the type of person who was deeply routed by their emotions. She stopped for stray cats and pouted at the sight of roadkill. She definitely wouldn't have been able to stomach the weight of Eren's story, not face-to-face at least.

After taking a minute to let everything sink in, Hanji threw her head back and expelled a musical sigh, one that was akin to the puffy lip noise she made earlier. "It's pretty painful, you know? I mean, when you think about it, Eren didn't  _want_ to get his tattoo removed; he  _had_ to get his tattoo removed."

I hadn't thought of it that way, until Hanji had put it into words. Eren never asked to be cheated on; no one ever does. But it happened. Was he still in love with Jean after he'd found that tape? Maybe. Was he still in love with Jean  _now_? Who knows. Then again, would he have kissed me if that were the case? Probably not. Which reminded me...

"There's something I still haven't told you, Hanji, something that happened last night." Actually, there were multiple "somethings", but seeing as they all kind of tied into one, singular "something", I didn't bother getting all technical.

That got her attention right away. "Oh? And what's that?"

Opting to slowly lean back in the chair again, I gave Hanji a brief overview of how the rest of the night played out. Eren finished his story, I told him he didn't have to pay me, he said he felt offended and insisted that I be paid in the form of food, and then we went out for ice cream.

Hanji shoved her hand in my face, and begged, "Wait, wait, wait. You two went out for ice cream together?" I nodded. "You and Eren?" I nodded again. "Last night?" Again. " _Ice cream_?"

"Yeah." Hanji's disbelief was understandable, but really, why in the Hell would I lie to her about something like this? She clearly knew that I could barely stand the kid. Why would I make up some fantasy about us frolicking around with ice cream and idle chatter at 10 o' clock at night? My honesty should have been obvious.

If she was having trouble comprehending only the surface of what I had to tell her, hearing what I had to say next was going to make her drown.

"So, the ice cream was good, I guess. But as we were saying our goodbyes or whatever, Eren randomly asked me what my biggest dream was." I saw Hanji's eyes squint skeptically at that, but she allowed me to continue. "I don't doubt that you remember what I told you, right? Well, I essentially told him the same thing. It felt really weird having to put it into words again. At first, I was almost positive that Eren wouldn't understand what I meant by 'paint the town' or that he would laugh at me like it was a joke, but he accepted it almost instantly. After that, he asked me if I wanted to know what his dream was and I figured, you know, why not? I'd told him mine, so why not hear his? That's when he kissed me."

If Hanji had been drinking something, she would have spit said drink all over me. Oh, but her saliva would have to do. "I'm sorry,  _ **what**_? Did you just say that-?"

"He kissed me," I said, interrupting her. The last thing I needed was for her to go and make this whole thing more dramatic than it had to be. "Apparently it was a hint to what his dream is, but he didn't say anything else. Well, he did say that he was going to help me make my dream a reality, but that was it."

"It?!" Hanji's voice had magically raised several octaves with a single syllable. "Levi, that's more than enough!" She jumped off of the counter and immediately began to pace. With her arms wildly flailing about and her head turning this way and that, she sort of resembled a dysfunctional robot. "I can't believe you and Eren...and he and you...after going out for ice cream...the two of you kissed and...Levi?"

"Hm?" I hadn't been expecting her to address me directly; she'd seemed pretty in the zone with herself.

"Is there anything else you haven't told me? Like, am I totally missing something here? Are you and Eren...?"

"No," I stated firmly. "Whatever you were about to ask, the answer is no." But there  _was_  something else that I hadn't told her yet, something very important for artists like she and I, and I was ninety-seven percent certain that once Hanji knew about my little "issue", she wouldn't look at me the same way.

I could have been wrong in that assumption, though. After all, before we were employees, we were friends, and friends didn't judge each other, right?

"Hanji, I started painting again," I whispered. It wasn't like I had stopped painting because of some super serious reason, or whatever. It was merely the fact that I could only ever seem to paint - and paint  _well_ \- when I was overcome by an intense emotion or overwhelming thought. For example, there was a time when a client had gotten me so fired up (and believe it or not, that client  _wasn't_  Eren) that I'd painted the most vibrantly detailed inferno I had ever created. We kept that painting, along with our countless number of reject sketches, in the back room to remind us that customers can kind of suck sometimes, but you know, whatever.

Hanji stopped pacing and turned to look at me again. Like I mentioned before, Hanji wasn't dumb. She knew about my painting style and she knew what factors had to be present in order for me to paint. Based on the context clues of our conversation, and with how randomly I'd brought it up, she more than likely could tell where I was going with this. "You have?" she asked, almost hesitantly. "What have you been painting?"

I made it my choice not to answer her. I saw no point in it. Her fixed expression told me that she already had the correct answer in her head, and so she dropped it. She asked me something else, instead.

Walking slowly to the front counter after her episode of pacing had reached its conclusion, Hanji rested her palms against its smooth surface and stared at me interrogatively. I could only remember one other time when she had worn such a serious look on her face, and it had been when she was convincing me not to give up on my unadulterated passion for art. In her mind, apparently, this matter was just as important.

"Levi," she said, slowly and simply, "are you falling in love with Eren?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> Writing this chapter was so exciting! Things are finally happening, gears are finally turning, and emotions are finallyforming! However, I'd like to apologize for the severe lack of Eren in this chapter, but no worries! He'll be back in the next one. (:
> 
> Even without our cocky little brat, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, nonetheless! If I didn't make it explicitly obvious already, I really enjoyed writing for this chapter, haha!
> 
> Anyways, as always, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy
> 
> P.S. I feel like this is something a lot of authors mention at the end of every chapter, but I usually forget! If you want to follow my tumblr, it's kairixxxsora16. I mostly reblog a lot of Eren/Levi stuff and post chapter updates, so yeah! That's pretty much it. Thank you again! (:


	9. Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought it was hideous; she thought it was beautiful.

Love was an emotion I never thought someone like myself would fall into. Fantasies and romances that involve the "L" word are so hyped up by the media and society that I feel nauseated just thinking about them. Then again, if there isn't love, what else is there? Oh, there's hatred. Love and hatred have always been the two, prime emotions that every other feeling or sense has stemmed from. From love, there is like, happiness, pain, etc. From hatred, there is fear, jealousy, anger, and so on and so forth. To be in love with someone means you want to give them the world; to hate them means that you want nothing more than to take their world away.

Was I falling in love with Eren? That's a good question. I sure as Hell better not be.

"Why would you ask something like that?" I questioned calmly, collectively. Lashing out at Hanji for stating an innocent question would have made me look stupid.

Sighing, Hanji curled her fingers against the counter and hung her head. For a moment or so, she didn't say anything, but when she opened her mouth, it was only to ask another question. "Do you remember what happened the last time you started painting this passionately, Levi? Actually, it might be better to ask if you remember  _why_ you were painting so passionately. Do you?"

I'd done something like this before? When? If Hanji was the one bringing it up, then it had to be true. But why couldn't I remember...?

Oh.  _That's why_.

"Yeah," I whispered. "I remember."

 

* * *

 

It was over a decade ago, back when Hanji and I were still in college. She had just started bothering me about pursuing a major in art with minute success. From an estimated distance, I would see her working on colorful projects that involved cotton balls and sidewalk chalk, while I worked on my lame, common core assignments. I envied her because of that. When I saw her smiling with pride because she had created something wonderful, I wanted to  _be_ her. Why couldn't I be an artist like her? Why couldn't I indulge myself in my passions like her? Why couldn't I  _accept myself_ like her?

There was no turning back from there. The itches and the tingles were already crawling up my arms, and they wouldn't disappear until I did what had to be done.

I needed to paint.

I'm not entirely sure what happened, or  _how_  it happened, but all I can remember is that one moment, I was lying lethargically on a firm mattress in my dorm room, and then the next, I was standing in the corner of one of the art galleries on campus, staring wondrously at the  _mess_  I'd made.

My fingers were dripping with orange; my heart, a fiery inferno. I wanted to keep going. I wanted to do more. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so  _good_.

"It's beautiful." That was the voice I'd heard. I'd convinced myself that it was just a figment from inside my head, but then I felt hands. Arms. Breasts. "It's really very beautiful."

Hanji held me from behind, stroking my slick arms, as we marveled at my mistake of a masterpiece. What did she see in it that I wasn't seeing? How was something that looked like carrot vomit beautiful? Without thinking, I asked her to explain her reasoning to me. "Why do you think it's beautiful? It's hideous."

Humming a soft tune while she continued to rub my arms, she whispered, "Why do you think it's hideous?"

"I asked you first." It was a childish response, I knew that, but I had an alibi. I wasn't thinking straight.

Hanji was still humming along to her unknown song as she let go of me. No longer was I caged by her suffocatingly warm hold. Instead, she stalked up to the corner wall and began to inspect it. Soon enough, I was certain, she would change her mind and deem it a hideous mess after all.

After painfully silent seconds of surveying had passed, Hanji turned back to me and shook her head. "It's really no good." There it was. "I just can't seem to give you a proper answer to your question, unless you give me an answer to mine first." Wait, what?

Quickly becoming irritated with her puzzling logic, I irritably asked, "Why does it matter why I think it's hideous? I'm the one who painted it, so I'm free to think whatever I want. I want to know why  _you_ think it's beautiful."

She folded her arms and nodded. "Fair enough. And with that, you've answered my question."

I had no idea  _how_ any of that had answered her question. All I'd done was state what I thought about my mess and how she was deliberately avoiding giving me an answer, but to her, I'd said so much more than that.

Looking wistfully at the corner wall, Hanji sighed. Slowly approaching it like she had done before during her inspection, this time around, she rested her palm against a particularly dense area of activity and inhaled deeply. "I can see the years of pain you've been forced to go through. This small section right here really highlights how bottled up you must have felt, hm? As most artists are, you've been conditioned to believe that you're not going to get anywhere in life by pursuing your beloved talents. You'll end up broke, you'll be living out of a soda can, and you won't have the means necessary to live a cushy, comfortable life."

Hanji's hands began to follow a smooth curve in the paint, a curve I hadn't noticed until she drew my attention to it. "This is all you've been hearing for the past, I don't know, five? Six? Seven years of your life? It's been drilled into your brain so much that you've started to accept it. I won't be an artist. I can't be an artist. I'll be a failure if I am an artist. Does this sound familiar to you? It should, because it's exactly what I'm reading right here."

I hadn't painted words; there were none. Hanji was reading the splotches. She was reading the lines, she was reading  _between_  the lines. What Hanji was doing went even further than that, and it both amazed and terrified me.

She was reading directly from my heart.

Slamming her first against the central point of the painting, Hanji threw her hands back made a ghastly  _Pew!_  sound to emphasize just how chaotic the disaster had gone from there. Outlining as many of the details as she could, she was gasping for air by the time she turned her attention back to me again.

I saw it immediately; there was no doubt about it. Hanji was different. Save for the obvious of how she'd managed to get orange paint all over her face, hands, and glasses, there was a comparable distinction between how she'd looked at me before she began analyzing the corner wall and how she looked at me now. "You've done it all on your own, Levi. You've freed yourself from your worst enemy, and the proof of that is right here." She paused for the sake of inquisition. "When was the last time you painted like this?" Years. "Did it feel good?" Very. "Do you want to do it again?" Yes. "You want to do it again, don't you?" Yes. Yes. She could have asked me a thousand times, and my answer wouldn't waver. I was already in too deep, and she made me realize that.

I wanted to paint again.

Not so surprisingly, the art professor wasn't too thrilled about my unannounced vandalism of his gallery, but on the same token, he wasn't entirely upset by it, either. Just like Hanji, he had been able to read through the smears and the smudges and see the struggles I had endured. It was because of that, plus a few added factors, that he encouraged me to pursue art as my major. I had a gift, he said. It would have been a waste not to use it.

Three days later, I handed in my withdrawal forms and took up six new courses, all of them focused solely on the creation of art and art history.

 

* * *

 

Standing up from the chair, I shook my head. I understood the point that Hanji was trying to make, about how my black-out style of painting was only invoked when I was undergoing excessively intense emotions, but why did she think that my paintings of Eren were equated with love? I could have been experiencing many different feelings when those canvases were created. I could have just as well been annoyed out of my mind when I'd shoved my hands into those jars of paint. I could have been filled with hatred or anger. What made her come to the conclusion that it was love?

"Levi, please don't get upset," Hanji pleaded. "It was just a question. You don't have to answer it."

Good, because I wasn't planning on it. Walking out from behind the front counter, I stretched my arms high above my head, cussing pleasurably when the kinks in my lower back gave way. I was not looking forward to the long morning we had ahead of us. If only there was something we could do to pass the time.

And that's when I had an idea.

"Hey, wanna work on some new sketches?"

At first, Hanji seemed surprised by my suggestion. It had been quite some time since we'd sketched together, and the last time we were working on new designs, we both ended up getting frustrated an quit. "I mean, only if you're up for it," she said.

I shrugged. "I wouldn't have said anything if I wasn't."

"True, very true. Well, let's break out our sketch books, then."

When I said that it'd been a while since Hanji and I had sketched, I hadn't been exaggerating. The sketch books that we kept in the back room were covered in dust, and our drawing pencils were nowhere to be found. Almost giving up before we'd even started, Hanji made the suggestion that we use pens instead of pencils. We had plenty of pens. We used them to mark down costumer information and schedule appointments. However, there was an issue with sketching with pens. Because of their permanency, they stripped you of your freedom to make mistakes. Every stroke and every curve had to be outlined to perfection. One wrong move and you were done.

We sat in the back room in silence, our pens scratching away at our papers. Hanji was the first to crumple up one of her drawings and start over, but I held strong. I was determined to make the perfect sketch on my first attempt. I strove to craft something beautiful without having to tear it apart and start all over again. I wanted perfection.

"How's your sketch coming along, Levi?" Hanji asked out of curiosity, after a few minutes of working on her new sketch. Peeking over my shoulder, her eyes immediately widened and she gasped.

I screwed up. Her reaction caused me to screw up. Not like it mattered, though. Hearing her sharp inhale made me realize just what the Hell I had been doing. "Damn it," I cursed. "Ugh, damn it,  _damn it_."

"Levi, you...?"

Drawing my pen away from the sketch book, I jabbed the ball-point onto her nose and warned her not to say anything further than that. "Don't."

"But, Levi-"

I applied more pressure into the point of the pen. "I said  _don't_."

Complaining about it hurting her, Hanji swatted my hands away and promised that she'd keep her big mouth shut. When I pulled the pen away, she punched my shoulder with one hand and rubbed her nose with the other. "That was really uncalled for, you know that? Now I'm going to have a mark on my nose for the rest of the day!"

"Good," I said. "It'll inform other people of just how  _nosey_  you are."

Even though Hanji was still visibly angry, I could tell that she was struggling to keep a straight face after a comment like that. I mean, come on. Even she had to admit that it was a good comeback.

Crumpling up my piece of paper, I tossed it into the corner waste bin and sighed deeply. Maybe sketching wasn't the best way to pass the time after all. Sketching wasn't just for fun; there was a purpose to it. We were supposed to be creating new designs to showcase to our customers who were considering original tattoo ideas.

And I highly doubted that anyone would want an outline of Eren's eyes tattooed onto them.

Lo and behold, after five miraculous hours of waiting around in the back room with nothing other than the rusty smell of old coffee to keep us company, our first client of the day had finally arrived. She was a kindly young girl who was excited to get her very first tattoo: a freckled pattern of stars on the back of her neck.

While I worked on our client, Hanji sat in the chair beside her and chatted her up, in order to get her mind off of the pain. A tattoo like that one should have taken me around an hour or two to complete, but because the girl insisted on taking multiple breaks, I ended up working on her for around three hours. I didn't really mind it, though. She was a good customer and tending to her passed the time, as we continued to wait for the other two clients we had scheduled for that afternoon to show up.

After our second set of customers had made it and were tended to by myself and Hanji, the late afternoon hours were already giving way to the evening. It was hard to believe how a day that had been so centered about the virtue of patience was finally coming to a close. Turning off the window lights and locking the front door had never felt so good.

"Ahh, we made it," Hanji sighed peacefully. Cupping her hands behind her back and pulling them into a stretch, she continued to say, "I thought today would never end! Hopefully tomorrow is a bit more exciting-"

Stopping mid-sentence, both of our heads turned at the sound of the phone as it started to ring. Who would be calling us now? If they had our phone number, they must have also had our hours.

Normally when the phone rings after closing, Hanji and I don't pick it up. It's our way of saying, "You're too late. You should have called earlier." But that was only our motto if the person called once. We didn't have a motto for if the person called twice. I think you can tell where I'm going with this.

After the phone stopped ringing, there was only a moment's reprieve before it started right back up again. Its annoying, technological chirping was giving me a headache. "Answer it, Hanji," I said demandingly.

"Why do I have to answer it?" she whined. "What if it's one of those psycho maniacs that you hear about in the movies?"

"Just answer it."

She sighed and obediently gave in, but not without mumbling something along the lines of, "Why do I always have the be the one? Geez," to herself.

Hanji walked over to the front counter and looked at the phone's blank Caller ID before hesitantly picking it up. "Yes, hello? I'm sorry, but we're already...ah! Eren? Why are you-hey!"

Snatching the phone out of Hanji's hand, I quickly pressed the speaker to my ear. Of course it would have to be Eren. Why didn't I think of him in the first place? "Why are you calling my shop after closing hours?" I asked, in a stern tone. "Do you have no consideration at all?"

I could hear the arrogance in his faint laughter through the phone's speaker. It caused my teeth to grind.

"Actually," Eren began to say, "I have a lot of consideration. I'm calling to let you know that I'm outside. That's pretty considerate of me, don't you think?"

Looking to a very confused Hanji before looking in the direction of the front windows, I stalked my way up to the front door and casually peered out. Upon seeing me, Eren offered two, friendly beeps of his horn - both of which I heard over the phone and through the window - and a wave.

"Why the Hell are you here?" I asked. Hopefully my choice of stronger language would prompt him to give me a short answer. "If it's to schedule your next session, you could have just done that over the phone. Preferably during our working hours, thank you."

Every fiber of my being wanted to hang up on him, when I heard him start laughing again. Who did this kid think he was? Just because we had a nice night together last night, it didn't change the fact that I wasn't going to put up with his crappy attitude.

"That's partly why I'm here," Eren admitted, "but only partly. The real reason is because I have something that I want to show you."

Show me? Show me what? Did he get a new tattoo, or something? Shaking my head, knowing full well that he would be able to see me through the window, I asked, "Why can't you just tell me what it is? Why does everything have to be a guessing game or a bargain with you?"

It was difficult to make out in the darkness, but instead of actually seeing it, I could hear the sly smirk in Eren's voice, when he answered, "Because life's more fun that way."

With that, I hung up on him and threw the phone over at Hanji for her to catch. She missed. The phone hit her on the shoulder. Oops.

I couldn't even explain to her what was going on when she asked, because I had no idea myself. Eren wanted to show me something, and I had no idea what it was. When I figured it out, she would be the first to know.

Unlocking the front door and heading outside in a huff, I cussed at the drop in temperature. Autumn was definitely on its way. Rubbing my arms as I walked, with the ridges of my boots digging into the gravel, I hurried over to Eren's car where he ever-so-gentlemanly rolled down the window upon my arrival.

"Hi."

"Just show me whatever it is that you have to show me," I said, leaving no room for small talk.

Laying his wrist against the steering wheel, Eren shrugged and said, "I figured you'd be in a rush, so I won't beat around the bush." With his free hand, he reached for what appeared to be a small pouch of some sort. Seconds later, that pouch was in my hands and I was being instructed to open it.

"What is it?" I asked. I didn't like not knowing what was inside of sealed packages.

"I can't believe you're asking that. Just  _open_  it," Eren urged. "The answer to your question is literally in your hands."

I sighed in exasperation. What I'd said over the phone hadn't been an exaggeration. Everything really was a game to him.

Eyeing the pouch, I tilted it to get a slightly better view of what I was dealing with. Whatever was inside couldn't have been all that large; the package itself was relatively thin. Without further delay, I stuck my thumb underneath the small flap that sealed the pouch shut and began to tear it. After the seal was completely broken, I pealed away the excess paper and took a peak inside. It was...a picture?

Cupping my hand, I squeezed the outer edges of the pouch and gave it a shake until the singular photograph bumped against my palm. There were no words to accurately describe my confusion, so with a dumbfounded expression, I grabbed the picture and held it up for Eren to see. "Do you mind explaining why you needed to show me this?" I asked him.

Avoiding my question - or at least ignoring it for now - Eren drummed his fingers against the smooth leather of his steering wheel and proceeded to ask, "Do you know what that building is? The building in the photograph, I mean."

I gave the image a quick glance and shrugged. If there was a point to all of this, Eren wasn't making himself very clear. "It's the old library building that closed down about five years ago. You still didn't answer my question, though," I pressed. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Hmm," Eren hummed, as his eyes wandered up to the inner roof of his car. "Let's call it your payment. Your payment...and your homework. Since you don't want me to pay you in cash, I'm paying you with pictures."

"Okay?" I was following what he was saying for the most part, but he obviously still wasn't making any sense. "Then, where does the 'homework' part come in?"

"I'm glad you asked," Eren said, sporting a stupid smile. "That's kind of the catch of this whole thing. You see, that picture that you're holding, you don't get to keep it. You have to give it back to me. Hold on a second, though, I'm getting ahead of myself; that's the  _second_ part of your homework. The  _first_  part is something that I know you won't object to."

Huh. In saying that, Eren certainly seemed sure of himself. How did he know I wouldn't object? We hardly knew each other.

But then I realized that that wasn't true. It was disturbing enough to gradually become more and more aware of it, but Eren and I already knew more about one another than my stubborn brain would like to admit.

Resting my arm against his car's half-opened window, I stared Eren down as I waited for him to honor me with a response. "Well?" I asked, coaxing him back into the conversation. "Aren't you going to tell me what it is? I would never accept a homework assignment, unless I understood all of its instructions in full and excruciating detail."

I could see it in his grossly gorgeous eyes. Eren was more than delighted that I'd taken to his little game, and started to play along myself. That's what he wanted, right? To have me wrapped around his finger, and tied into a pretty little bow? Yeah. As if.

"Fair enough," he sighed, letting his hand drop from the steering wheel. "Then you may be disappointed to hear that there's only one detail that I can offer you."

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, yeah? And what's that?"

Emitting an essence of challenge as he purposefully narrowed his gaze, he finally gave an answer. "I want you to paint it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here! :D
> 
> Word count-wise, this chapter was a bit shorter than last week's chapter. But content-wise, I feel like this chapter was a bit more interesting! We got a deeper look into Hanji and Levi's past, and the plot is slowly starting to progress! Hopefully you'll all enjoy where it's heading. (:
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time to read! I greatly appreciate it! And on a side note, thank you for all of the kind reviews and comments you've been leaving thus far! Hearing feedback from you guys definitely gives me the motivation to keep posting these chapters each week. So, again, thank you very much! (:
> 
> \- Chappy


	10. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His apartment is clean, but his silverware is spotted.

"You want me to...what?"

Of all the stupid things Eren could have said, he managed to pick the stupidest one. He'd just handed me a picture of the old library building, told me that it was a homework assignment, explicitly stated that he wanted the photograph returned to him, and that he wanted me to paint it. By all means, I wasn't following his logic - probably because he didn't have any.

"I want you to paint it," Eren repeated, leaning back in his driver's seat. "You know, like, with a brush?"

A paintbrush? Really? He obviously knew nothing about my art style. "I don't use paintbrushes."

Having enough gall to mumble something about making this more difficult than it had to be, Eren held his hand up in a dismissive gesture and sighed. "Fine. If you don't use paintbrushes, use your fingers." He paused, and his sunlit eyes met mine. "Look, I really don't care how you paint this thing, I just want you to paint it and give it back to me, alright? That's all you have to do."

"I have a question." I still had many, actually, but seeing as we were scrapped for time, I figured I'd only ask the most important.

"Go ahead," Eren prompted. "Shoot."

Showing him the picture for a second time, I waved it around like some sort of victory flag and wondered, "Why are you telling me to do this exactly? What's the whole purpose of this ridiculous 'homework' assignment?"

There it was again. That awful smile that was practically begging to be ripped off of his pretty, little face, he was wearing it specifically for me because of what I'd asked him. "You haven't realized it by now?" he questioned, continuing to smile. "I'm surprised. I mean, this assignment is probably the closest you'll ever be to achieving your dream, isn't that right?"

"What?" I was more confused now than I had been before.

Grabbing for his seatbelt and fastening it with a click, Eren shook his head. He wasn't going to answer me, I could tell. "Just take it home and think about it, if you have to. It's not rocket science. Paint the picture. You can cover it in polka dots and rainbows for all I care. Just  _paint_ it." Forcing an end to our conversation, Eren pulled his car into reverse and left things off by saying, "This will make more sense to you soon enough, okay? I'll see you in four weeks."

Four weeks. For the longest time (it had only been a day), I had been mentally badgering myself about getting into contact with Eren in some way or another to set up his next appointment. Having him give me a timeline made my life just that much easier. Now I could mentally prepare myself for the next time I'd be seeing his smug face around my shop. I could also estimate the number of canvases I would need to purchase for the course of the month, because who was I fooling? As much as I hated to admit it, I'd probably paint a ton of Eren-esque creations in the span of four weeks.

After Eren pulled out of the lot and drove off, I headed back into the shop with the photograph in hand. I had only been inside for a second, but it wasn't surprising that Hanji was already bombarding me with questions.

"What happened?" she started off, like an overactive puppy. "Did you guys talk about last night? Did you talk about his next appointment? Did you two kiss again? I bet you kissed again, didn't you? You wouldn't have been out there for so long if you were only scheduling a decent time for his next session, right? Hey, wait a minute. What is that thing you're holding? Is it a picture? Ooh, did Eren take it? Let me see, let me see!"

Without hesitation, I handed the photograph of the old library building over to Hanji and began massaging my forehead. For the love of God, she talks way too much sometimes. I'd needed an aspirin after that mess of questions.

Hanji began to inspect the picture with quizzical eyes. Looking at it from all angles, she flipped it over, brought it closer to her face, and then held it a full arm's length. Thankfully, she was just as confused as I was. "I don't get it," she said, turning her head toward me. "Why did Eren give you this picture? Does this building have some sort of meaning to the both of you?"

I shrugged and stuffed my hands into my back pockets. "The Hell if I know. It might hold a special place in his heart, but to me, that building is just a really rundown eyesore."

"Then why-?"

"He gave it to me as a homework assignment," I interrupted. "His words, not mine. He said I had to paint it and then give it back to him, whatever that's supposed to mean."

"Huh..." Drawing her attention back over to the photograph, Hanji began to analyze it further, like it was some piece of fine art. Granted, Eren had been able to make a crappy old building look not  _as_ crappy with his use of filters and focus, but was it really worth viewing so closely. "Levi," Hanji suddenly said, "did Eren say anything else to you tonight? You know, anything else about  _why_  he wants you to paint this picture? He couldn't have just told you to paint it and then drive off without giving you any kind of explanation, right?"

Hanji was right about that, yes, but Eren's explanation hadn't exactly been the most comprehendible. Shrugging my shoulders a second time, I said, "He said something about it being the closest I'll ever be to achieving my dream, whatever that's supposed to mean."

For the flickering of a second, Hanji's eyes had widened. As her vision mellowed out, she seemed quite satisfied with my answer. "Heh, what a creative little bastard," she muttered. Was she understanding something that I wasn't? Was there an underlying message that I just wasn't seeing? Probably, but I was too tired to figure something like that out tonight, and it wasn't like I had to, either.

I had a whole four weeks ahead of me to try and decode Eren's peculiar assignment.

Hanji handed the picture back over to me. She was wearing a stupid grin that reminded me of Eren. I told her to knock it off.

"Aww, don't be such a sour puss, Levi," she giggled. "You're smart! I'm sure you'll figure out what Eren's little plan is soon enough." Tch, that's what he said.

Accepting the photograph, I eyed her skeptically. "You've already figured it out, haven't you?"

She continued to giggle. "Maybe. Maybe not." Walking toward the front door, Hanji flipped off the lights and grabbed the main entry keys on her way out. Before taking her leave, however, she turned back to me and said, "Let's just say that I have an  _idea_ of what Eren is trying to do, and it's really cute."

If Hanji's "idea" was cute, then it had to be wrong. There was no way in Hell that annoying kid would plan out something cute. It just wasn't in his nature. In fact, he was probably doing the exact opposite. Maybe he was trying to mess with me in some way. I hate to say it, but it was kind of working.

I followed Hanji out of the shop without a word, and after the front door was locked up tight, we headed over to where our cars were parked. She mentioned something about being hungry and wanting to grab dinner, but I passed on her offer. There was too much on my mind to focus on a relaxing outing, and that was never a good thing. Not in my case, at least.

She made up her mind and said that she'd just get something from McDonald's, and after wishing her well on her half-a-day's serving of calories, we got into our separate cars and parted ways. Well, somewhat. I had to wait for her to pull out of her parking spot first.

On the ride home, I decided to suffocate the silence by stuffing it with some radio music. The songs the stations played at the 8 o' clock hour were always so mellow - just what I needed to calm myself down. Every red light was like a stab to my subconscious. At every opportunity, my eyes would wander and they would lock sights with the photograph of the old library building. I'd set it down on the passenger's seat which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the best idea. If I didn't want it to become a distraction, I should have tossed it in the back, shoved it into the glove compartment, or at least flipped it over so that the image was out of view. But no. That wasn't how my mind worked when it was too busy being occupied by confusing thoughts.

What was Eren planning? Why was he doing this to me? Why was he doing this  _for_  me? What were his ulterior motives? Did he even  _have_ ulterior motives?And what did he mean by, "this is the closest you'll ever be to achieving your dream"?

I needed answers.

By the time I finally pulled into lot of my apartment's complex, my skin was already crawling with tingles and twitches. It was a good thing Eren's "homework" assignment had been to paint, because I really needed to. At least, I thought I did. The second I stepped into my apartment, broke out my jars of paint, and got ready to start coating the photograph with color, the impulse was gone. The tingles and twitches weren't there anymore. All previous desire had vanished.

"What the Hell?" I was talking to myself, while looking at the photograph. "What the Hell just happened?"

I honestly couldn't remember a single time where my need to paint had suddenly just... _disappeared_ like this. I must have been sick. I could have been hungry. Nah, I was probably sick.

Setting the photograph onto one of the easels that I used to prop up my canvases, I stared at the stupid thing like it was about to sprout wings and fly away. Tucking my feet behind my backside, I figured that maybe if I looked at the picture for good, long while, inspiration would strike and I'd be able to paint it.

Nope. It didn't work.

I ended up just looking at photo of an old building for an hour without moving a muscle. I needed a new tactic.

I didn't actually  _paint_ the photograph, but I tried painting the image of it onto my last blank canvas to see if that would spark something inside of me. Tracing my fingers along the smooth surface, digging my nails into the cloth when necessary, I worked on structuring the edges, the exteriors, and even the rotting vines that engulfed the majority of the building, but still no dice.

I gave up and made myself a bowl of soup.

Because of my sporadic eating and artistry habits, most of the cooking and silverware that I owned showed remnants of my past creations on them. The ladle that I used to stir the broth and the noodles together was spotted with a mixture of orange and red at the handle, a nostalgic sight to see. I'd been painting one of my very first sunsets when that ladle got dirtied. What can I say? It was a below-zero night in the dead of winter, I was obviously missing the summer sun, and I wanted some soup. Plain and simple. It was a shame that the frustrations of tonight's "painting" - if you could even call it that - would also remain as a memory on that soup ladle in a blotchy pattern of grey and green.

Even the plates and bowls that I kept in the cupboards had little speckles of dried paint here and there. As much of a "neat freak" as I've been coined to be, the spots don't bother me. They remind me of the things that time may have forced me to forget. Hanji minds them, though. If, by chance, I just so happen to invite her over to my place and if, by second chance, she just so happens to be hungry and wants something to eat, she'd always make an off-hand comment about how I needed a new kitchen set entirely, or else I was going to die an early death from lead poisoning.

Meh. Whatever.

Spooning a cupful of soup into one of the bowls, I sat at the counter and began to think...and maybe that was my problem. Maybe I was putting too much thought into this whole thing. Instead of thinking about the photograph and how I'd go about painting it, maybe I just needed to let myself  _do_ it.

If I was going to paint the old library building, what would I do? How would I paint it? Don't think, just do.

Well, I'd start by painting the main doorway yellow - a definite upgrade from the current shade of basic brown. From there, I'd paint the windows blue and the bricks on the outer wall black - maybe I'd even add a little bit of red just for the heck of it. After that, I would gloss the roof in gold and coat the cobblestones in green. Lastly, when all of that was finished, I would streak the skies in purple and dot the clouds with orange...wait. What?

Unbeknownst my knowledge, I'd somehow migrated from the kitchen back over to the painting easel. Standing there with the rainbow dripping from my fingertips, I stared in awe at the photograph. What used to be a plain image of the old, abandoned library building was  _still_  an image of the old, abandoned library building, but one that was full of life and imagination.

And then it occurred to me. This is what I wanted. This is what I've  _always_  wanted. This very photograph was an 8x10 representation of what I dreamed my world would look like, what my  _town_  would look like if I had the power to enforce it, and that's when it finally clicked. This was the "dream" that Eren had been talking about, and this was the closest I would ever come to achieving it.

Because of Eren, I had just painted a part of the town.

 

* * *

 

The summer came to an abrupt halt and autumn quickly claimed her thrown. Just yesterday, it felt like I'd been able to step out of my apartment in nothing more than a tee shirt and some jeans, but now a light sweater was some kind of necessity. I hated the colder months. They were filled with lower temperatures, and lower temperatures meant sleeves - and sleeves meant covering up my ink.

I wasn't someone who was overly attached to their tattoos and needed to see them every waking moment of the day; no, that wasn't it. It was more of a guilty feeling. It felt like I was censoring art - and to some extent, myself - for the sake of the weather. Ugh. Stupid sweater weather.

Surprisingly, four weeks had managed to fly by, even with their extra long mornings and drawn out nights. Not only was it the Tuesday after the clocks fell back, but in the blink of an eye, it was already the afternoon. More specifically, it was the afternoon of Eren's second tattoo removal session.

And for a second time, Hanji would not be accompanying me on such a grand adventure. She called in sick the night before, saying that she might have caught the flu or something of that nature, and needed to rest. Permission granted, because my exact words to her were to "keep her sickness to herself" and to "stay the Hell away from my shop."

Maybe it was better this way. Things were calm and collected without her presence, and Eren seemed to open up more - if that was even possible - when she wasn't around. And besides, he and I had a lot to talk about, stuff that she probably wouldn't want to listen to anyway (or maybe she would. Who knows).

But most importantly, he and I needed to talk about the photograph.

I'd only tended to one customer that day, so basically, my hours were consumed by intently staring at the painted picture, just waiting for Eren to show up. Heh, that's something I never thought I'd admit to. When did this annoying brat become someone who was worth my time waiting for? Beats me.

Tapping a pen against the front counter to the rhythm of my boredom, I periodically glanced at the clock to see what time it was. 3:46. 3:59. 4:13. 4:25. 4:26. 4:27. 4:28...

At exactly 4:30 on the dot, I heard tires roll against the gravel, a sound that was shortly followed by a car door slamming and the front door of my shop opening wide. And there he was. In all of his faded and pastel glory, my long-awaited customer had finally arrived. "Hey, stranger," Eren greeted smugly. No surprise there. "Long time no see, huh?"

"Really?" I sighed, standing up from the front counter. "It feels as if it was just yesterday when you were being your annoying self, all cryptic about that photograph and whatnot."

At the mention of the photo, Eren's amber eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh! Do you have it with you? Did you remember to paint it?"

Nodding, I stepped out from behind the front counter and extended my arm for him to follow. "Yeah, I did. But before we get into that, let's get started on your session first. You're not going to fall asleep on me again, are you?"

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans, Eren chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "I wasn't planning on it, but I'm not making any promises. I had to be up by 6AM to prepare for my midterms, and this was after going to bed at 1AM, so I'm pretty much running on Red Bull and pure determination."

"Fair enough. Have a seat."

While Eren got himself comfortable by leaning back and unbuttoning his pants, I pulled out my equipment cart, along with all of the extra accessories I'd need for sanitation purposes (e.g. gloves, anti-bacterial wipes, etc.). My shop wasn't renowned for being the cleanest tattoo shop around town for no reason. It's because it actually  _was_  the cleanest shop around town.

By the time I made it back over to where Eren sat and had a seat myself, he was already ready to strike up a conversation with me. "So," he began slowly, "how have you been? Did you miss me?"

Grabbing the laser removal gun, I gave it a threatening click, to which he shut up immediately. It was actually pretty hilarious to watch him cower at the sound of the electrical pop, so like a disobedient dog who had learned their lesson, I granted him the pleasure of my response. "It's been quiet. A good kind of quiet. The kind of quiet that you like to disrupt."

I heard him snicker, while he pulled up his sweater for me. He'd been all smiles and giggles until that Godawful tattoo of his came into view. That's when the laughter stopped and his face grew cold. "Let's, uh," he faltered. "Let's just get started, alright? We can talk more after."

"Fine by me."

I almost preferred silence over conversation, when in the midst of working on someone. Along with the hum of the tattoo gun, the added sound of someone's voice was distracting to my focus. If Eren didn't want me to slip up and start burning him in unnecessary places, then not speaking was probably a good thing.

And just like that, the session began.

Zapping the areas of dense ink first, I could feel Eren's lower abdomen beginning to twitch beneath my fingers. If he was in pain, his stoic expression showed no signs of it. That expression, however, it gradually began to fade before it was no longer present. All that was left was a subtle sense of consciousness before Eren was out like a light.

I hadn't the slightest idea why his appointments with me were as relaxing as he made them seem. If I were in his shoes, I would have been wide awake and watching my artist's every move. But Eren was obviously different. Because of his vulnerability, it showed me something I didn't see in most of my clients.

It showed me that he  _trusted_ me.

Without trust, Eren wouldn't have been falling asleep ten minutes into his sessions like he seemed to have a bad habit of doing. Instead, he would be awake, alert, and aware of every little jolt, and every single bolt, that my tattoo gun made against his abdomen. It amazed me, yes, but it was also a bit disconcerting. If this was only a small showcase of Eren's levels of trust in people, then his relationship with his ex-boyfriend must have been a prime example.

"Mmn..." Eren made a gentle sound, when I reached to pull his boxer shorts down further. Because of his sleepy grip, they kept riding up to his hips like before, only this time, I actually got a response out of him because of it. Oops.

Not letting that slightly erotic noise sway my focus, I grabbed a damp cloth and started wiping at the beads of blood that began peaking through Eren's damaged skin. Just when I thought I was out of the woods, Eren inhaled suddenly and sharply, definitely catching me off of my guard. Luckily, my reflexes were just as good as my lack of them, and I'd been able to catch the cloth before it fell onto the floor. But seriously, what had gotten into him? Eren had been so quiet and still during his first session. What changed?

Oh, wait. I think I knew. It was because  _we_ changed.

Four weeks had given us enough time apart, and whether we liked it or not, we must have done a lot of thinking about each other. Whether Eren's thoughts were innocent or risque, the subtle pink that his cheeks wore when I touched him in lower areas proved to me that it had to have been a little bit of both. As for me, no matter how hard I tried or how many paintings my fingers itched to paint, I couldn't get that damn kiss out of my head. I mean,  _damn_. I could still taste the mint on my lips if I really thought hard enough.

And then I remembered that that kiss wasn't entirely random. It was a hint, a hint as to what  _Eren's_  dream was. But what kind of hint was that? Did he want to kiss every person in the world before he died? If that was the case, did that mean that Hanji was next? No, that couldn't be it. Eren was openly gay. There was no way he would kiss Hanji, right? Or would he? Damn it, why was I getting jealous over this?

I was grateful when I'd finished the last stroke of shocks to that dumb horse head and began wiping away the last bits of Eren's blood. My focus had been shot from the moment I let my mind wander off, and it was my own damn fault for  _letting it_ wander. Enough was enough. Eren had to go.

"Hey," I said, trying to grab his attention by shaking his arm. "Hey, Eren. You have to wake up. I'm not going to be waiting around for you for three hours like I was last time. Now  _wake up_."

Nothing. This was ridiculous.

Yelling, shaking, and smacking him across his arms had zero effect on Eren regaining his consciousness, which really sucked because it left me with nothing. No new options to experiment with. Nothing. Unless...

...I was going to hate myself for this.

Setting the laser gun aside and scooting closer to the edge of Eren's chair, I propped myself up slightly by resting my hands on either side of him and began to lean over his sleeping body like the 1938 rendition of a fairytale. Oh, yeah. I was  _really_  going to hate myself for this.

Going in for the kill, I closed my eyes and let my instincts take over. If I missed, oh, well. I would just roll with the punches. But to my surprise, I didn't miss. In fact, I was met halfway by another pair of questionably eager lips, lips that refused to pull away even after the message was more than clear.

Eren was awake. How long had he been awake? I really couldn't say.

Playing off our kiss with an almost embarrassed chuckle - something I'd never thought I'd hear out of him - Eren said, "I'm not a princess, you know. You didn't have to do that."

Oh, but I did. He wouldn't have woken up, otherwise. Kissing that kid was my last resort, and he probably knew that and just didn't want to admit it.

Recomposing myself, I sat back in my chair and scoffed. "If you're not a princess, than I'm not a prince. Let's just pretend that none of this even happened, alright? Now, come on. I'll give you the photograph so that you can go."

When I moved to stand up from the chair, I felt a hand dart out in an attempt to grab my arm, followed by the fragile command to wait. Turning over my shoulder, there was Eren with his pants still hanging loosely around his hips. He had a somewhat unreadable expression on his face. "What is it?" I wondered.

That's when there was no context, just feeling.

I felt Eren's hand slide up my arm, as he rose into a stand as well. I felt his hand curl around my shoulder, while his head began to dip lower. I felt his breath against my neck, before I felt it hot and heavy against my lips.

And then I felt him.

I felt my own hands reaching out to grab a hold of his sides, while my eyes slipped shut with the sensations. I felt my sense of reasoning shoot up into the clouds, as my body continued to move on impulse. And then I felt the guilt, like what we were doing was some sort of taboo, like this kiss was the end all to our "normal" relationship and the start of something more complex. Oh, who was I kidding? We were already complex.

However, if there was only one thing that I was certain of, it was that a kiss like this had to have been something much more than just another hint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> Can you believe that we're already on chapter 10? I honestly can't. I started this fanfic in the middle of the summer, and here we are, starting October next week already! And we finally have an established season! I'm pretty sure I've been avoiding what time of year it was in this story, but now you know that it's autumn! Ah, but that wasn't the most important part of this chapter, huh? ;D
> 
> I really enjoyed plotting out this chapter and writing for it, so I hope that you as the reader enjoyed it, as well! Feel free to let me know what your favourite part was!
> 
> And of course, as always, thank you for taking the time to read! I truly appreciate it! (:
> 
> \- Chappy


	11. Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can we live with the consequences of the choices we make?

I'd always despised television soap operas for their impromptu make out scenes. One second, the two characters would be having a grand old time, be it at a public restaurant or in the sanctity of their own home, then the next, they're rushing at each other like it's the last five seconds on Earth, ripping at their clothing and gnawing each other's faces off. To the humble viewers, a scenario like this is supposed to be considered something that's totally normal. But it's not. It's not normal at all. Could you imagine how weird it would be if you were eating in a restaurant and the couple seated next to you started sucking face? That would be disgusting.

Point of the matter is, I was afraid that I was becoming one of those ridiculous characters from a soap opera.

I didn't even know why we were kissing each other, to be honest. We just kind of  _were_. Also, Eren may have been the initiator of our current state, but I had been the one who instigated this whole damn mess.

Was it shameful of me to be glad that I did?

Eren's hand gradually moved from my shoulder to the back of my neck, and up into the shaved hairs of my undercut. I heard him all but purr at the change of texture, before slightly tilting his head and adding a greater sense of pressure between our lips.

While my mind was still so frazzled with corrupted confusion, I did my best to try and pull myself back together again, not even really knowing that Eren's lips had caused me to fall apart.

I could feel his other hand starting to explore my torso, drifting down to my midriff and sweeping over my abdomen. God, that felt nice. For someone whose lips were so strong, his touches were surprisingly gentle. Was he afraid that I would crumble beneath his fingers? That I couldn't handle him being a little rough with me? Tch. Ridiculous. Looks like I'd have to remind him of who he was dealing with.

Using my hands on his hips as leverage, I shoved Eren - and that is not an overstatement - back against the tattoo chair. The force behind my push had been so powerful that it nearly caused him to stumble over his own two feet - my bad. The stool I'd been seated in while working on his tattoo had toppled onto its side, and while we were both so focused on the sound of the hard crash, I couldn't help being drawn to the specific sound that Eren had made in response to my push.

He'd gasped.

It was normal to gasp in reaction to something that startles you, of course; oh, but Eren's gasp was different. Even though it had been horribly muffled by the weight of our lips, I'd still been able to detect the erotic undertones laced within his vocal chords. Damn it, this was getting dangerous.

But we didn't stop.

If Eren had said no, or had shown any signs, even if it was just the slightest indication that he just wasn't feeling the kiss anymore, I would have pulled back immediately. I wasn't about that kind of behavior. But he didn't show any signs, and neither did I. In fact, in that moment, we couldn't have been more into each other. To anyone who had been passing by on the street, if they had just so happened to sneak a quick peak though the shop window, they probably would have assumed that Eren and I were lovers, based on the way we were so tactile and immersed in one another...not just two guys who suddenly decided to kiss each other because...? I'd had a good share of kisses in my life, but never had I been kissed as spontaneously as with Eren.

I felt Eren's hands leave my head and my torso as he moved to prop himself up onto the tattoo chair. The swift motion had caused our kiss to break for a half-second, just long enough for the both of us to swallow some air. I'd made the "mistake" of doing so with my mouth, to which Eren had seen an opportunity, and he whole-heartedly took advantage of my error.

Feeling Eren's tongue ring against my lips had been one thing, but feeling it as it slid against the insides of my mouth and clacked against my teeth was a completely different experience. To be honest, I didn't even know if I liked it or not. What I  _did_  like was the small hitch in Eren's breath as he reacted to my palms being pressed against his legs. To test him even further, I gave his thighs a tight squeeze. Well, that did the trick. Eren's composure began to melt like jelly, and as I was just about to bask in my sweet sense of satisfaction, a disgusting thought came to mind.

What would Eren do if I grabbed a hold of his hip?

It would be wrong, obviously; he'd just undergone a removal session and the area of treatment was going to be swollen and sore for a few days, but what would he have done? Would he recoil against my hand? Or would he welcome my touch? Damn it, now I wanted to know. I'd already been able to hear the lovely little sound Eren had made when I'd used his hips to push him back, but it wasn't the same. If anything, that "erotic" gasp could have been a gasp out of shock or pain. Whatever. I'd just have to find a new spot to claim...what? Why would a thought like that even cross my mind? Oh, screw it. Just screw all of it. I was done with this self-righteous crap. Who was I even fooling anymore? I was into Eren. There, I said it. I was honestly fascinated by him - smitten, if you will - and I wanted to find a certain spot on his body that was all my own to claim.

So like a Godawful vampire, I went for his neck for some reason.

Personally, I didn't even  _like_ neck biting. To me, it felt like the person who was biting me was trying to cut off my pulse. On the opposing end, when I was the one doing the biting, it felt like there was nearly never enough skin to even latch onto. I gave kudos to those who could make neck biting look sexy, because it's freaking hard as Hell.

Luckily, Eren seemed to be all for it. I could feel his neck arching almost the second after I'd torn away from our kiss and began nipping at rose petals. That's right. Rose petals. Eren had a neck tattoo, and that gorgeous gloss of ink was a pastel arrangement of lots of different roses - both living and dying. The petals that fell from the dying roses cascaded lifelessly to the edge of Eren's clavicle, where the shading of the colors became so delicate that it was almost transparent. It made me wonder what the story behind that tattoo could have been, but Hell, I still didn't even know what "Freiheit" meant. Seriously, these were things I was going to have to ask him after I was finished eating his flowers.

"That feels nice," Eren sighed, as he draped a lazy arm over my shoulder. Those were the first words I'd heard out of him since this crazy kissing game had started. It was a bit startling to hear his voice, along the vibrations that came with it. I could actually  _feel_  his words against my teeth and my lips, as he continued to say, "You can bite all you want over there, but don't leave a hickey, okay?"

"Why not?" I wasn't offended by that; I mean, it made sense. Leaving a hickey on a tattooed area of skin was kind of trashy, not to mention it degraded a work of art with a horny staple of claim. Those were my reasons at least, but I wanted to hear Eren's. As someone who clearly wasn't as passionate about respecting artwork, I was almost positive that he was going to come up with an answer that was completely different from mine.

"If you want to give me a hickey, I want you to mark it on an area where my skin is clean; not on the tattoo that I got in remembrance of my mother."

And that just made things a whole lot of awkward.

Even though he'd said it was okay to, I stopped biting Eren's neck and drew away from him entirely (save for my hands, which were still firmly clasped around his kneecaps). Did he mean to tell me that for the past minute or so, I had been gnawing at the petals of a rose tattoo that was supposed to be symbolic of his mother? Hate to break it to ya, kid, but that really just killed the mood.

"Why didn't you tell me to stop sooner, then?" I asked, a bit peeved that he chose to bring something like this up  _after_  the fact that I'd already been actively chewing on remembrance roses.

"Because it felt good?" That wasn't the answer I'd been looking for, nor was it the answer that I'd wanted to hear. Flattering? Yes. Disturbing? Also yes. "I like having my neck bitten, just not too hard on that one side. The other side is a total free-for-all, though. You know, for future reference." For future reference? Man, this kid couldn't get cockier even if he tried.

My hands gradually slid off of his knees, and with a roll of my eyes, I bent over and picked up the fallen stool chair. I propped it onto its legs and sat down with a sigh. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe it was better for Eren and I to stop before we did something that we'd regret. I tried feeding myself those delicious lies, but I found it hard to swallow when the image of his tongue ring clicking against my teeth was all I could see. I was going to choke.

"What happened to your mother?" I asked, after clearing my throat. We'd talk about what just happened in a little bit, but for now, I was genuinely interested in his tattoo. Go figure, right?

It was Eren's turn to clear his throat, and as he did so, he dragged his arm off of my shoulder and tried to nonchalantly pull up his pants. But there was nothing "nonchalant" about it. No, not in the way that he began to tease the zipper, or in the way that the material of his jeans rustled against the metal buttons. Once Eren was all set, he started recounting the events of a story that he must have told quite a few times to the people who asked. I wondered if I'd get the long version or the short version. In situations like this, there was always varying lengths of detail for the same exact scenario.

"She died when I was nine-years-old." From my experience, when people started off by saying, "so-and-so died," they were usually planning on giving you the short version. But I should have known better. This was Eren, after all. He was a kid who loved to hear himself talk, and if our conversation about his ex-boyfriend was any indication of how long we were going to speak for, it only made sense to make myself comfortable.

"I see." I didn't dare say, "I'm sorry." I absolutely hated it when people said they were sorry for things like this. It's like, what are you apologizing for? It's not your fault. Unless you had a hand in my misfortunes, then don't say you're sorry for them.

When I was just about to ask how she'd died, Eren continued explaining on his own. "She used to work as a florist in a small shop that was so close to our house, she could actually walk to work every morning. She really loved that job. She told me that it had always been her dream to work with flowers, even though she'd gone to college and majored in nursing. She didn't regret that choice, though, because that's actually how she ended up meeting my dad. They were both studying majors in the medical field, so they had a lot of classes together. However, about two weeks into her nursing career, my mom decided it wasn't the right place for her and she started chasing after her dream.

It took her a while to find a floral business that was hiring, but amazingly enough, the manager of the shop located just down the street ended up retiring. One of the employees that worked there was given a promotion, but that didn't solve their shortened staff problem, so they started looking for applicants to hire. My mom was one of the first to apply, but she was the only one who actually got hired."

Eren's head tilted back, as he began to look at the ceiling wistfully. He had the same look in his honeydrop eyes, when I told him about my life-long dream, so I could only imagine that he must have felt the same sense of wonder towards his mother's.

"She worked at that flower shop for a whole twelve years and only missed one day of work. Can you guess why?" I shook my head, and Eren pointed to himself. "It was because of me. I was born. Until the day she died, my mother never let me forget how I couldn't have waited just one more day to come out of her. She had a line of days ahead of herself where the shop was going to be closed for spring break, but nope. Not happening."

Eren went into further detail about how his mother's water had broken in the middle of the flower shop. He explained how his father had to drive all the way from the hospital where he worked, drive to the flower shop, pick up his wife, and then drive all the way back to the hospital again. Lots of fun when you're in intensive labor.

"Mom loved work so much that she went right back to it after the shop's spring break was over. My dad ended up being the one who had to take a paternity leave from the hospital for a while, before he was ultimately switched over to the night shift. Anyway, I'm getting totally off topic here, aren't I? You asked me how she died, and here I am, giving you the whole story behind her career."

I shook my head and urged him to continue. I didn't mind all of the exposition; in fact, I almost preferred it. It was nice to know some background behind the person who died, otherwise, Eren's story wouldn't have held as much of an impact. By having him give me all of this information about his mother, it was almost as if I was viewing the story as an outsider, while at the same time, borrowing his emotions and his eyes.

After dropping his gaze from the ceiling, Eren scratched the back of his neck and let out a weighted sigh. Said sigh was ironically followed by a nervous laugh. "This next part is always the hardest to tell," he murmured, his hands fidgeting with the hairs on his neck.

"Take your time," I said. This wasn't like last time where I felt bound by the clock. We had more time to spare than we were probably willing to.

"Alright, alright," Eren breathed. First through his nose, then out through his mouth. "Okay, flash forward about nine years. By the time my dad was getting ready to drive me to school, my mom had already walked off to work. Everything seemed fine. Everything was totally normal. It was April 11th, just a regular weekday like any other."

There is never such a thing as a "regular weekday" when the date is given specifically.

"My dad and I had just walked out the front door, when we heard the telephone ring. I remember him saying something like, 'If it's important, they'll call me on my cell phone,' before ushering me into the car. Sure enough, about three minutes later, his cell phone began to ring.

There was a freak accident at the flower shop. My mom had been crushed by one of the refrigerators that they keep to preserve bouquets and crap like that. They'd just gotten a new installment of them last week, but the company that set them up forgot to secure that one refrigerator by not bolting it to the wall. When my mom closed the door to the fridge just a bit too hard, it toppled over and and the weight of it killed her instantly."

After that, things got pretty quiet. It was a little while - I didn't keep track of how long specifically - before Eren began to shake his head. He muttered something along the lines of, "I never got to tell her sorry," to which I encouraged him to elaborate.

"Well, the night before she died, we got into a heated argument about how I got called to the principal's office for punching someone at school. In my defense, they were making fun of my best friend, but because the kid ended up getting a bloody nose because of my fist, suddenly I was the one at fault."

With an arched brow, I asked, "And this happened when you were nine?"

"Yeah, but that's beside the point. Anyway, she threatened to take away the polaroid camera that I'd just got for my birthday if I kept misbehaving in school, so I ran up to my bedroom and didn't come back down for the rest of the night. I didn't even get to see her on the morning she died. It's crazy, now that I think about it. One day, she was there, and the next, she just...wasn't anymore."

I was grateful to have been given the long version of Eren's story. His mother sounded like a passionate lady. As a woman who seemed fully devoted for the sake of her dream, she would have been proud to know that her son wore her memory around his neck for the rest of his life. Sadly enough, it was a fragment of that very same dream of working with flowers that ended up killing her. Such a shame.

"I'm sure she forgives you," I said, not really understanding why I felt the need to console him. He must have heard those words thousands of times; would hearing them once more really make a difference? "I mean, you're a stupid kid who says and does a lot of stupid things. And from what you've just told me, it doesn't sound like you're all that different now from how you were when you were nine." Eren tried to intervene at that comment, but I kept talking. "Look, all I'm saying is that I'm sure she forgives you. I mean, how old are you now?"

"Twenty. I'm going to be twenty-one in March."

"Exactly. I highly doubt your late mother is going to hold something against you from, what? Eleven years ago? Give me a break." Rising into a stand, I stretched out my lower back in an attempt to ease my aching muscles. I really needed to work on my posture.

Eren nodded, but he also shrugged. "I mean, I already know that. It's just, she deserved to hear the words, and I never got the chance to say them to her. Not before it was already too late."

"That's life, kid." I stuck a hand against my hip, as I replayed those words in my head. Wait a minute. That didn't sound right. "Well, life  _and_ death. They'll always be full of choices that need to be made and consequences that will inevitably follow. As humans, it's our job to make the choice, but on the same token, it's also our job to accept the consequences of our actions. You made the choice to get a tattoo of your ex-boyfriend's name on your hip, and that was also a consequence that you've had to deal with for quite a while."

"Yeah, but I'm getting that consequence fixed now," Eren pointed out.

"You're right. Bad example." Sticking to his mother's story, I used a different approach to get to my point. "Okay, so, you were so angry that you made the choice to run upstairs to your room and not come down for the rest of the evening, correct?" He nodded. "And the consequence of your choice was?"

"...My mom died?"

Was he being serious? I shook my head. "No, try again." However, when he still couldn't come up with the answer that I'd been looking for, I huffed and said it for him. "By letting your anger and your pride get the better of you, you lost your sense of reasoning. It's a subtle consequence that was unfortunately backed up by larger, much more traumatic events, but it's not something you should disregard entirely. In fact, I think it says a lot about who we are as people. We're always so quick to bare our teeth and swallow our stability, but is the price of that really worth the overall cost? I guess what I'm saying is, had you gone back downstairs and apologized to your mother, do you really think you'd be sitting here telling me how sorry you feel? Probably not. After all, we don't know how much time we have left on this stupid planet, so why not make the most of it by following our dreams and making choices with consequences that we know we won't regret?"

Damn, I had not expected to get all preachy there. What the Hell came over me? I think I needed to start getting more sleep at night.

For most of my lecture, Eren's eyes had been wandering back and forth from my eyes to my lips and back again. I hadn't thought much of it, until he agreed with my excessively long set of statements and proposed a question of his own. "With all of that being said," he said slowly, "can I ask you something?"

"Go for it." I had nothing to lose, right?

Twirling his tongue in a way that allowed me to snag a quick glimpse of his silver stud, Eren sucked on his lower lip before finally uttering, "Do you regret kissing me?"

I wasn't going to lie to myself. At first, I'd really regretted it. I also really regretted the fact that I'd bit into a tattoo that was relevant to his dead mother, I mean, how creepy was that? But did I regret the kiss as a whole or how good it made me feel? That answer was easy.

"I don't."

I'd said those two words with a straight face and an even straighter posture. The only thing that wasn't straight about me was my sexuality, but hey, that was something I'd made incredibly apparent by my advancements on him this evening. "Do  _you_  regret it?"

His body language spoke to me in fifty different tongues, but even though I already knew the answer to my question, I waited from Eren to make himself comfortable enough to answer it himself. With a hand on his neck and arm wrapped around his midriff, he shook his head slightly. It wasn't the verbal response I'd been expecting, but it was a clear indication that he wasn't feeling any regrets, either. Ugh. Damn him for acting cute and stuff after all of this. Again, this was getting awkward. I mean, what did that even make us? I'd never been one for labels, but there was no way that our relationship could be classified as "business professional" anymore - not like it was ever "professional" to begin with.

"...I have another question," Eren eventually said. The silence must have been eating away at him, and I couldn't blame him for that. The shop could get creepily quiet if literally no one was making a sound.

"Yeah?"

With every tick and every tock of the hanging wall clock, I counted the seconds that it took for Eren to speak up again. In the end, eleven seconds had passed before he asked, "Can I kiss you again?"

I snorted. Since when had he turned into Mister "Ask First"? I legitimately wanted to know what was going on in that brain of his that caused such a change. "You didn't ask me the first time you kissed me," I pointed out. "Or the second."

"Yeah, well," Eren stated defensively, "neither did you. And I'm asking you now, so...can I?"

Oh, what the Hell. Why not? I'd already accepted my messed up feelings for this kid, so why not indulge in them a bit more by trying to seem as disinterested as possible?

"Sure, whatever." See? That's the ticket.

I was happy to see that spark of confidence return to Eren's overall composure. It was that very arrogance I hated so much that drew me to him in the first place. Other than myself, Eren was the first person I'd seen that kind of behavior from. It was annoying - God, was it annoying - but it was also refreshing, okay? Sue me for liking a little bit of a challenge.

Preparing myself for the kiss, I stood tall and waited for Eren to do the same. Not gonna lie, it was a bit of a blow to my pride when he stood taller than me, but I tried not to pay too much mind to it. If he and I were about to kiss again, I needed to stay focused so that neither of us acquired the upper hand.

As Eren swooped down to my level, I gradually began to close my eyes. Let me tell you, there was nothing more mood-killing than an open-eyed kiss. I even tried it once with a girl I'd dated back in high school. Yeah, no. It was really weird, and I never wanted to do it again.

With my eyes completely closed and my lips waiting to be taken by Eren's, I had to wonder why he was stalling. Just before I'd closed my eyes, his face had been right in front of mine. Was he just staring at me, or something? Curiosity killed the cat, but I had to see for myself anyway.

The exact second I opened my eyes was the second I felt a distinct pair of lips pecking at my upper cheek before withdrawing just as quickly as they'd come. That hadn't been the kind of kiss I was expecting, but I think that's what I liked most about it. Eren was simply full of unexpected occurrences, and that kiss right there only proved the theory further.

Man, today's session turned out to be a lot better than I thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> This chapter started off smooth, but it definitely took a turn for the awkward, didn't it? Haha, I hope I didn't make any of you cringe with too much secondhand embarrassment! I'm actually really happy that I got to write more about Eren's other tattoos, though. So far, this story has mainly been focusing on the one tattoo that he wants removed, but I think it's good to remember that he has other tattoos that he genuinely loves having on his body, as well. (:
> 
> As a side note, I want to direct your attention back to the last chapter. Did any of you notice anything about about the colors that Levi used to paint the photograph of the library building? You get bonus points in my book, if you did! 
> 
> Anywho, that's enough rambling from me! I sincerely hope that you enjoyed reading this chapter just as much as I enjoyed writing for it!
> 
> And as always, thank you for taking the time to read! I truly appreciate it!
> 
>    
> \-- Chappy


	12. Navy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday is the best day of the week...sometimes.

I found it kind of funny how after we'd kissed, what? Like, three or four times? Eren thought it might be a nice idea to ask me if I was gay. Not before we kissed, but after. Yeah. He was such an idiot.

I felt like I didn't have a good enough answer for him, honestly, so my response was pretty much just a shrug and a heavily disinterested sound of, well, disinterest. I soon figured that I'd just spare him the constant questions - not like he ever spared me of them - by clarifying, "I've never really thought about it before, I guess. I've always just kissed who I felt like kissing, touched who I felt like touching, and so on."

"'And so on'?" Eren quoted, boasting a cheeky grin.

My gaze narrowed threateningly at him. "Watch yourself, kid," I warned. "You've blabbed to me about your disturbing sex life on more than one occasion, so you have no room to talk."

Eren was still smiling with pride, as he innocently clasped his hands behind his back and began swaying to and fro. "Fair enough, fair enough. Although, I have to say, it's kind of weird picturing how someone like you would act in the sack."

"Don't picture that." Um, what the Hell? Let's just pretend I didn't hear Eren say that.

Even after I stepped away and started toward the front desk, I could hear that kid still snickering to himself about that stupid comment he'd made. Anything I may or may not have thought about tonight supposedly going way better than planned, one more snort out of him and I was going to revoke all of it.

Irritably fumbling through paper schedules and discarded sketches, Eren must have grown curious as to what I was doing, because just as I'd found what I'd been looking for, I realized that he was no longer standing beside the tattoo chair; he was right behind me. "Are you looking for something?" he asked, even though the answer was more than obvious.

I turned around and promptly handed him the photograph of the old library building he'd asked me to paint for him. "Not anymore," I said, affirming my words by pointing at the picture. "This was my homework assignment, right? Well, I finished it, so here."

Never did I expect to see someone look at a tainted photograph with such admiration, but Eren managed to shatter all of my expectations. Pinching the edges of the picture with utmost care, his eyes widened with great perplexity as they darted back and forth, visually consuming the details of my work.

After his moment of silent appreciation, Eren spoke. His wording, however, could have initially been taken as an grave insult. But I wasn't sensitive to such petty opinions anymore. Whatever he had to say wouldn't affect me, nor would it alter the way I went about creating art.

"You've made a mess of it." Those were his exact words, down to the very last syllable. "It looks like you just took some of your favourite colors and slabbed them all over this photograph. There isn't even a pattern, or at least a distinct correlation between the colors that were used...and it's  _perfect_."

As if taken into a trance, Eren's fingers skipped from the clouds that were speckled with orange, to the skies that were smeared with purple. They danced across the green cobblestones, the gold roof, and played with the red and black outer wall. Everything down from the blue windows to the yellow doorway, Eren's fingers admired it all, stroking each of the places my own fingers had been individually.

"You know," he began to say, when he finally spoke up again, "when I gave you this picture to paint, I promised myself that I wouldn't get my hopes up." I wanted to question him on that, but quickly decided against the potential argument. Folding my arms, I let him continue. "You're a busy guy and I honestly thought that you'd just forget about this whole thing, but you obviously didn't. What's more is you took what I told you and just went with it."

Interrupting him, I made it a point to mention, "Well, it's not like you gave me specific instructions to go by. All you said was to paint it and to give it back to you."

I could sense a master plan in the works, for Eren smiled affectionately at my response. "Exactly," he remarked. "That's exactly it. And do you know why I didn't give you any further instructions?"

If I thought about it hard enough, I could probably make a few educated guesses, but Hell, it was nearing the end of my shift, I was tired, and I didn't feel like using my brain for anything other than involuntary means of survival, so I shrugged. Why do the extra work, when I already knew that Eren was oh, so eager to tell me the answer himself?

"Because this is  _your_  dream, Levi," he said softly. "Don't you see it? You probably do." Pausing for the breath of a second before rounding up his thought, Eren flipped the photograph back over and held it up for my viewing pleasure. "Metaphorically speaking, you do realize that you've painted a small part of this town, don't you?"

Of course I realized it. It may have taken me a bit longer to figure out than Hanji did, but I'd been able to draw that conclusion on my own. But even with one question answered, numbers of new questions began to surface, like why was Eren even doing this in the first place? Did he have an ulterior motive? Was he just bored out of his mind? Did he find it amusing to confuse me? Granted, those questions may have been fine and dandy - real conversation starters, like we needed any more of those - but they weren't the main focus that I was after. Above all else, there was only one thing on my mind: "If it's my dream, I don't understand the point of why I have to give that picture back to you."

By the way Eren had let out an amused huff, I figured my question must have been good; good enough to trot around and leave completely unanswered. Waving dismissively and shooing away my constant curiosity, he promised, "Oh, you'll see. I promise, you'll definitely see. But for now, I'm going to treasure this lovely masterpiece and keep it somewhere nice and safe. And that reminds me - there's actually something else I need to show you, too."

Oh, great. Show and tell again. Was it another picture? I mean, that had been a simple guess, but based on my experience from the last time Eren had to show me something, I ended up with the most self-satisfying, yet completely mind-boggling assignment of my entire life; even my Introductory Chemistry course back in college made more sense than Eren did sometimes. "What is it?" I asked.

"Come with me to my car," Eren said invitingly. With a flick of his wrist, he strolled up to the entrance of the shop. When he sensed that I made no move to follow him, he peered back over his shoulder. "Come on."

I take orders from no one, but apparently I take orders from Eren.

I made certain to show him that I wasn't the least bit pleased to be catering to his command by dragging out a heavy sigh, before reluctantly following after him. I probably could have locked up the shop on my way out. Eren was the last customer I had scheduled for today; after he left, I would make a break for it, too. But the thought didn't cross my mind until my feet had already hit the gravel, so there was no sense in dwelling on it.

Reaching his car first, Eren dug around for his keys and popped open the locks to the backseats. As I remembered, the back of his car was still cluttered with dozens of photographs, both new and old. Coincidentally, as my eyes drew back and forth from photo to photo, I noticed one picture in particular that had captured my fancy. It was photograph of a woman set in a sepia tone, but even with the corrected color scheme, I could envision her features almost perfectly. Her hair had to have been a deep, chestnut brown, and her eyes couldn't have been anything other than delicate drops of honey. With such charming characteristics composed in just a single photograph, I had no doubts as to who this woman was. Had Eren not interrupted our subtle silence by tossing a paper envelope at me, I would have mentioned something about it.

"You could have just handed it to me," I grumbled. I'd nearly dropped the thing, so of course I was a bit ticked off. "Is this what you wanted to show me?"

Eren nodded. Hearing the pebbles plunge beneath his feet as he rounded the back of his car, he stood next to me as he said, "It's not like it's a big surprise, or anything. I mean, what do you think is inside of the envelope?"

I gave the envelope a quick shake. It wasn't heavy, but it was definitely full. "More pictures?"

"Heh, yeah." Eren fondled the back of his neck, soon thereafter prompting me to take a look inside. "There's a lot in there. I forgot how many exactly, but I think there's about fifty."

Fifty seemed like a pretty good estimate, judging by the weight of the envelope. Peeling back the plastic film and thumbing the flap to open it up, I realized a bit too late that I'd just followed another one of Eren's orders. I would have looked inside of the envelope regardless of his instruction, but that didn't change the fact that my actions looked like a direct response to his command. Damn it. Maybe I was looking at this too literally. It was only common nature to coax someone on, when you were showing them something, right? I needed to calm down and focus.

After spreading the sides of the envelope wide enough, I reached into the fold and pulled out a handful of photos. Just like the photograph of the library building, the pictures that I held within my hand were also of other buildings from around the town. Like the answer wasn't already obvious, I asked, "You took all of these?"

"In my spare time, yeah," Eren answered. "I see it as a learning experience. Even though I've been living here for a little while now, I still feel like an outsider. I want to be able to know where places are and how to get to them, so I consider taking these pictures just as much of a homework assignment as painting them is."

He wasn't being serious, was he? Driving all around town and taking pictures of random buildings was a lot morework than he was giving himself credit for. And for what? To make my stupid dream come true? There had to be a catch; there was  _always_ a catch.

Slipping the pictures back into the envelope, I looked up to Eren and addressed him. "I really don't understand why you're doing all of this, Eren. It doesn't make sense for you to be putting so much time and effort into a ridiculous dream that's not even your own."

Eyeing me almost amusedly, Eren must have been expecting me to say something like that, because his response was almost immediate. "Don't you remember my promise to you?" I didn't answer that. "Well, then. Let me refresh your memory: after you and I had ice cream together, you opened up to me and told me about your lifelong dream. I thought it was an incredible dream to have, and I even went as far as giving you a hint about mine, but that's not the focus here. I promised to make your dream a reality, and no matter how silly this project may seem to you, it's important to me...because you're kind of important to me."

Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute now. Did he just say...?

"Haha, so, um, just be sure to paint those pictures like you did with the first one, okay? I guess I won't be seeing you until my next appointment, so you have a month to get all of them done. That should be enough time, right?"

No, no. Back up a second. Did Eren just say that...?

"Anyway, I should probably get going. I have to study for midterms and junk, so...I'll see you in a month?" Eren was still awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, as he eyed me expectantly. What did he want me to say? That he was important to me, too? That was impossible. I couldn't rightfully say such a thing without it being partially untrue...could I?

"Yeah." I nodded. "I'll see you then." And that was the end of that. No more words were exchanged, just awkward eye shifts and tense movements. Eren eventually got into his car and drove away, and I headed back into the shop to get ready for lock up. It was only 7PM, but I figured the Hell with it. I was tired, I was confused, and I had Eren's pictures to deal with. All I wanted to do was to go home and stuff my face into my pillow; maybe then I would be able to drown out Eren's relentless words.

_'...Because you're kind of important to me.'_

On second thought, there was no way I'd be getting any sleep tonight.

 

* * *

 

Sunday afternoons are wonderful for two reasons in particular: the shop is closed, and the radio tends to favor acoustic music as opposed to that pop-culture garbage that's usually on. Because of those reasons, Sundays are typically when I'm at my peak of creativity. I like to open the windows to let a light breeze in (even if it's below zero outside), and regardless of how much (or how little) sleep I got the night prior, I find my energy levels to be at an all-time high. Whoever says Sunday is the best day of the week, I can agree with them whole-heartedly...most of the time.

Depending on the circumstances, Sundays can get pretty annoying, pretty fast.

Even though I've verbally expressed my wishes to her on multiple occasions, Hanji never seems to respect them. When has she ever, really? Oh, he says he wants to be alone on his day off? He says he wants to have some time to himself, so that he can paint to his heart's content? Nah, let's go ahead and bother him. He definitely wants my intrusive company hanging around his apartment. Totally, for sure.

Now, it doesn't tend happen all the time. Hanji usually sticks to her own agenda on our day off, but when her schedule is free from pending necessities, I am automatically her go-to guy for entertainment.

Three weeks had passed since I'd last seen Eren. It was the Sunday before Halloween, and damn, were my creative juices flowing. Darker renditions of old-time classics spilled out from the speakers of the small radio that sat on the windowsill, filling the main studio of my apartment with a lovely atmosphere for inspiration.

For the most part, I'd finished painting over most of the photographs that Eren had given to me. Most of the photos were of buildings, so I made sure to get those out of the way first. I wouldn't exactly want to describe them as being tedious to paint, but they definitely required a lot more thought when choosing a color scheme for them.

But the landscape pictures could be just as much of a commitment as the buildings, too.

It felt boring to just smear a single color across the river and call it a day; it was much more satisfying to blend several colors together, to mix the different shades with one another to build a contrast between them. Building that contrast - plain and simple - took time, and that's why I figured I'd dedicate one of my Sundays to getting some of the landscape photos done.

Or so I thought.

Just as I was about to slide my fingers across the smooth shade of navy that had taken me maybe a few minutes to perfect, there was a loud set of thumps pounding against the front door, followed by a voice that told me the one thing I had not wanted to hear.

Today was the day that I was the go-to guy for entertainment.

"Levi!" Hanji began to shout, like her rapping fists weren't already a disturbance enough. "I know you're in there! Let me in! Come on, let me in!"

"I'm not home," I called back monotonously. Hey, it was worth a shot, right?

Hanji groaned dramatically at my dry sense of humor. "Ugh, come on! Just let me in already! I have a ton of food in my arms, and if I don't put it down soon, I'm going to drop all of it!"

Apparently "a ton of food" was the equivalent to one bag of Chinese take-out, because that's all I saw Hanji carrying after I unwillingly opened the door for her. What a liar. I should have known better than to trust her so gullibly. But before I could shut the door in her face, she'd slipped into my apartment and immediately made herself at home.

Well, there goes my Sunday.

Waving goodbye to the best day of the week, I trailed behind Hanji like a raging lion would trail behind their prey. She knew that I was upset. She even said something close to, "Oh, I know you're probably upset..." but did that give her enough incentive to pack up her egg rolls and her pork-fried rice and leave? Unfortunately no. It didn't.

"I told you that I wanted to paint today." Exhaling the words and exercising as much self-restraint as I could manage, I asked, "Why are you here?"

"Oh, you know!" she giggled. No, I didn't know. I wouldn't have asked if I had known, therefore, her answer meant nothing to me. Quickly sensing that I was in no mood for games, thankfully, she cut the crap and cut right to the chase: "Okay, okay, you got me. I'm here, because I wanted to talk to you about something...or rather,  _someone_."

Sticking my fingers into the bag of food after it had been carefully set down on the counter, I searched around for my portion of the meal. "What?" I wondered, with only minor interest. "Did you and Mike call it quits again?"

Mike was Hanji's on-again, off-again boyfriend. They'd been "dating" ever since I'd met her back in college, but the test of time seemed to be wearing thin on their relationship. They never got married, and they never thought about saying goodbye to each other forever. No matter who they dated on the side when their relationship status was on hiatus, they always just kind of fell back onto one other again.

"No, no," Hanji said, as she swatted my hand away from one of the containers of chicken soup. I thought she was implying that the soup was hers at first, but then she spoke up again. "It's not about Mike - we're still together, by the way."

Yeah, and for how long? Honestly, I was already pissed off enough that she'd slammed the breaks against my Sunday plans, and now she was playing mind games with me? Just spit it out already. "Who do you want to talk about, then?" If she knew what was good for her, it better not have been me.

Whenever Hanji had a feeling that I wasn't going to like what she had to say, she did this thing where she would push her glasses all the way up to the bridge of her nose and then scratch the back of her neck with fidgeting fingers. I'd known her long enough to pick up on that nervous habit, meaning she never seemed to learn her lesson.

After all, one of her favourite pass-times was saying things that she knew would get on my nerves.

"I wanted to talk to you about Eren."

"Oh." Oh. "Is that all?" Was that really it?

Obviously Hanji was taken aback by how cavalier I'd reacted toward the topic. She must have been under the impression that talking about my personal business was some kind of big deal - and yes, I just referred to Eren as my "personal business".

"...You're okay with talking about him?" She was stressing the subject more than she had to, and it was annoying. Did I ever make her feel like talking about him was difficult for me? Hell, I opened up to her about practically everything, after Eren and I had kissed that first time. Would I do that if I was uncomfortable talking about him?

With that being said, I was already disinterested in our conversation and cracked open the carton of soup with a sigh. Twirling the contents with one of the plastic spoons that I'd grabbed from inside the bag, I took a careful sip from the broth and swallowed, leaving my tastebuds to relish in the wonderful flavor of added sodium.

"Look," I started to say, before deciding I didn't like the defensiveness in my own tone. I quickly changed that. "Honestly, there isn't much to talk about." There. Same statement, different approach.

Hanji nearly knocked over my container of soup, when her hands slapped against the counter in eager frustration. "Not much to talk about? Not much to talk about?!" She said it once, she didn't have to say it twice. "What do you mean there's not much to talk about?!" Okay, three times.

I shrugged. "I mean...that there's not much to talk about?" And with the way I saw it, that was the truth. I really didn't think that anything super major had happened between the two of us that it needed to be reported a second time. I already told Hanji about how we'd kissed again during his second removal session, I told her all about Eren's mother, and I even mentioned his awkward slip up when he'd said that I was important to him. What else did she want from me?

Realizing that she was acting out of line, Hanji apologized for her behavior and began digging around for something in the take-out bag. An egg roll, I'm guessing. "I'm sorry, Levi. I guess I just feel like...I don't understand the two of you, if that makes sense."

Well, it didn't, so I asked her to elaborate.

"I mean, I guess what I'm trying to say is, you and Eren have kissed quite a few times now, and there's obviously some attraction and tension going on between you guys, but what? Are you dating? Better yet, are you and him even friends? Do you even have each other's cell phone numbers? These are just a few of the things that I'm trying to comprehend over here, but I can't. I don't have enough answers."

I could understand Hanji's concerns, and while they were appreciated, they were unnecessary. "You don't need answers, and you don't have to worry about us. We're adults; we know what we're doing."

We _were_  adults, that much was true, but we had no idea what the Hell we were doing. At least, I didn't.

I had it in my head that I liked to kiss Eren because his lips felt good against mine, but there was more to it than just that, wasn't there? I liked the feeling of his legs beneath my hands, and how I could feel every twitch and every twinge of his muscles when I squeezed them. I also recalled liking the feeling of his neck, how it would arch against my command and react with utmost obedience. And then there were his eyes. Their feeling wasn't physical, but rather, a state of mind. Watching his sunrise eyes narrow from a challenge to the point of vulnerable closure stirred me up in ways I didn't know I could be stirred.

Eren did things to my brain that I would do anything to understand. By for now, maybe it was best to take things slow. Test out the waters, if you will - just like the clear waters of the lakeside landscape I'd been meaning to paint before Hanji showed up.

I'd said it once, but I'd say it again: I hated labels. Boyfriend, girlfriend; husband, wife. Did it really matter? At the end of the day, it's the feelings that count. And Eren and I, we were definitely starting to feel things for each other, but where was the harm in just being open about it for a while? I didn't see anything wrong with it, and Eren wasn't complaining either, so was the big deal?

"Look," Hanji sighed. Now she was the one who sounded defensive. "I know that you two are adults and have the right to do whatever you feel like doing, but to be honest, it's not you that I'm worried about: I'm worried about Eren. I'm not really sure if he's emotionally stable enough to be playing around with his tattoo artist, you know what I mean?"

Hanji did realize that three out of the four times we've kissed, Eren had been the instigator of them, didn't she? And hey, if you wanted to get all technical and whatnot, you could probably count that "three" as three and a half. I may have been leading up to kiss Eren that time when he was supposedly asleep, but he surprised me by quickly claiming the upper hand.

With the sweet sound of the wind blowing against the canvases in the studio, rustling the photographs that were secured there, my attention was drawn over to the window. I'd almost forgotten that I'd left it open. Not only that, but the Halloween-influenced music that played on the radio had become nothing but muffled background noise; it wasn't until I noticed the breeze from the window that I realized it was still playing. Even with the sounds that resonated between us, there was also a silence. And we listened to that silence, letting it loom over us like it was our conscience. It wasn't until a minute or so later that I was the first and last to talk. Not to myself, and not to Hanji. I just simply talked.

"If Eren says he doesn't like it anymore, we'll stop. We'll stop."

We'd put the "business" piece back into "personal business"; it's as simple as that. As simple as navy currents flowing through the waters of the lakeside.

 

* * *

 

If Sundays are the best day of the week, Mondays are, by far, the worst.

Hanji and I had spent the entire morning catering to a client who, apparently, had a strong phobia of needles. Food for thought: if you're afraid of needles, don't get a tattoo. You know, it's just a suggestion.

By the time we were finished outlining and coloring in her sun pattern, we were so exhausted that we seriously considered closing up the shop, even though it was only a few minutes after noon. But that wouldn't do, now would it? Because just as we'd finalized our master plan of hanging a "Gone Fishing" sign out on the front door - you know, just for hahas - the overhead bell had chimed, signaling that we had a customer.

And just who the Hell do you think that oh, so fateful customer was?

"You know, you're a little early, kid," I said, shaking my head as none other than Eren himself waltzed his way into my shop. I had to say, I found it a bit too coincidental how he was wearing a beanie with a navy shade to it only a day after I'd been so focused on the color for my painting. "Your appointment isn't until next week."

"Oh, I know," Eren said, as certain of himself as ever. "I'm not here for my removal session."

Was that so? Well then. With folded arms and a cocked brow, I enticed him to further specify. "Then what are you here for?"

In every career, there will be times where you absolutely love your job, and there will be times where you will absolutely hate your job. There will also be times where people like Eren come along, who make your working life a complete mess. And God, did he make it a mess.

"I'm here to see you," was Eren's answer, nevertheless complete with his trademark grin. "I'm here, because I want to get a new tattoo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here! 
> 
> If you know me from "Feathers and Follies", you must know that I am famous for cliffhangers, woohoo! And I have to say, TMPF has been pretty tame with its cliffhangers, hasn't it? Well, that's about to change! Get ready for it! (:
> 
> I mentioned this on my tumblr account, but this chapter is kind of just a whole lot of nothing, but with stuff still going on in between. If it bored any of you to death, I deeply apologize! Hopefully the next chapter will be more exciting for you guys, but I hope you were able to still enjoy the chapter, regardless!
> 
> And as always, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	13. White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An artist has many windows.

_What is it going to be this time?_

That was my initial reaction to Eren's ridiculous statement. Before the shock, and even before the confusion, there was only untainted curiosity. And then a second passed. A second passed, and the previously mentioned emotions began to settle in.

I may have been the first to react (a simple brow lift was reaction enough), but Hanji was the first to speak. She'd been seated at the front counter, trying her best to open the new box of staples she'd been working on for the past two minutes or so. With Eren's words still ringing through our ears, much like the faint, yet still present chime of the overhead bell, she dropped the still unopened staple box onto the desk and stood up. "Eren," she spoke slowly, with wonder, "are you seriously getting a new tattoo?"

Ah, so I hadn't been the only one having trouble swallowing his statement. It wasn't like we were the ones at fault, either. Our brains had been programed, wired to understand that Eren was after one thing and one thing only: to get one of his tattoos removed. But even so, that never negated the possibility of him wanting to get another tattoo, and it certainly never diminished his appreciation for the other tattoos he currently had. When adding those opposing factors to the equation, it should have made him easier to understand, but it didn't. Eren was as confusing as they come, which is why when he began to laugh, I felt like biting into something.

It started off as a snort and a chuckle, before his laughter erupted into an open-mouthed melody. I could see the shining glint of his piercing, as his tongue plastered itself to the back of his bottom teeth. How mannerless, how distasteful, but how, oh, so sweet his laugh had sounded, as it reverberated throughout his entire being.

It took him a while, but after taking his breather and settling himself down, Eren finally admitted, "Of course I'm not being serious. I mean, getting a new tattoo isn't out of the question for the future, but I mostly just said that, because I wanted to see the looks on your faces when I told you. Just so you know, they were priceless."

Well, that answered absolutely nothing. Now we were back to square one.

In need of a complete answer to the primary question, I began to ask, "If you're not here for that, then what are you here for?" Furthermore, I felt obligated to add, "I can tell you right now that if it's to pick up the pictures, I'm not finished yet."

Eren peered over his shoulder, almost as if something had drawn his attention, before stuffing his hands into his back pockets and shaking his head. "Nah, I'm not here for that. Actually, I'm not here for myself at all."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

When Eren flicked his tongue against his teeth, the sound of silver clicking against enamel reminded me of our kiss. That stupid stud had been making so much noise that the sound of it was permanently etched into my memory. And you know how memories work; they resurface at some of the most inappropriate of times.

After checking over his shoulder for a second time, Eren simply said, "I'm here for moral support."

Taking over the reigns of our conversation, Hanji was the one who asked, "Who needs your moral support, Eren?" I was kind of glad that she had stepped in and asked that. I would have asked him myself, but I still needed a moment to clear my dormant thoughts of the erotic memory that decided to assault them.

For the third time, Eren looked over his shoulder before answering. Unless he'd developed a nervous habit in the three weeks it'd been since we'd last seen each other, my guess was that he was waiting for someone.

"My roommate." He'd sounded a bit ticked off, as he said that. "We drove here together, but he got a call from his girlfriend just as we were pulling into the lot. I told him to call her back later, but he insisted that if he didn't answer, she'd just keep calling until he picked up."

"And your roommate needs moral support because...?" Eren loved dancing around his answers. He always gave us half of what we asked for, until we expressed a need for elaboration.

This time, instead of merely looking back over his shoulder, Eren turned himself around and stuck his nose to the glass of the front door. Tapping on it a few times like one would do to a fish tank, he huffed against glass, leaving a breathy cloud of condensation behind. "He wants to get a half-head tattoo. He already shaved off his hair for it and everything, but I'm starting to think that his girlfriend called him to try and change his mind about it."

A half-head tattoo, huh? It had been a while since I'd worked on one of those. They were always interesting, depending on who my client was - meaning it could be lots of fun, or a living nightmare. Nevertheless, some of my most detailed designs were ink patterns that I'd sketched into skulls. Being an area of such high sensitivity and public disinterest, though, they were relatively low in demand. If given the chance, I'd love to be able to do another one.

Taking a few steps back, Eren gave his roommate some space to open the front door and let himself inside of the shop. "Ugh, it's about time," he grumbled. "What did Annie want this time? Was she trying to convince you to back out?"

Now, I'm not one to judge people about their personal business and whatnot, but hold up for just a second. The guy that just walked into my shop was  _huge_. I'm talking protein shakes and bench pressing 50kg huge. Seeing a guy like him on the streets wouldn't have been that big of a deal, but seeing him standing next to someone like Eren was a bit of a shock. And to think, these two were roommates? What the Hell did they even have in common, aside from their tattoos?

"Yeah, she wants me to take some time to think about it more," Eren's roommate sighed. He rose his hand to scratch at the newly shaved side of his head, before adding, "She's pretty scary when she's pissed off, man. I feel like getting it right after she told me to think about it might seriously tick her off."

Eren mumbled something about driving all the way over to my shop, only to drive all the way back to wherever they came from empty-handed. "Don't worry about pissing her off. You've been wanting to get this tattoo for months. I think that's a long enough time to think about something like this."

"I guess she's just worried."

"Or controlling."

Watching the dramatic tale unfold grew pretty boring, pretty fast. Was I going to be tattooing this big man's head today, or not? Yes or no? That's all I needed to know.

Just as I had chosen to walk away and give the two some room to argue about a decision, I felt a hand reach out and grab onto my arm like a vice. It was no surprise when Eren's voice was heard soon thereafter.

"Hey, where are you going? I still haven't introduced you two yet."

No, of course you haven't. You and Mr. "I-Lift-Things-Up-And-Put-Them-Down" were too busy chatting up a storm to even notice my budding impatience. Honestly, kids these days.

Continuing on from there, Eren used the hand that wasn't currently cutting off my circulation to point my attention back toward his roommate. "Levi, this is Reiner Braun. He and I have been living together ever since I moved here. He's a pretty chill guy, with a super bossy girlfriend, apparently"

"I'm gonna tell her you said that," Eren's roommate, Reiner, threatened. "She's gonna kick your ass."

"Yeah, I'd like to see her try. Anyway, Reiner's been wanting to get his head tattooed for about as long as I've been living with him. Mind you, he's been here a lot longer than I have, but he still didn't know of any reputable tattoo shops in the area that would do a good enough job tattoo for him. That's obviously when I recommended he come to your shop. I knew that you guys would be more than willing to fill his request, isn't that right?"

In many languages, there are certain ways of phrasing questions to lead them to your advantage. What Eren was doing was the equivalent of - in a very light sense - verbal manipulation. Saying no to a question that ended with a "isn't that right" or "isn't that so" would make anyone look like a jerk, so that's why I took a different approach. Even if it were genuinely true, I wasn't going to let Eren catch me in his little word trap.

"It depends," I said, and shrugged. "Is he getting the tattoo or not?"

Looking to Reiner before looking back over at me, Eren seemed to have a glint of appreciation in his eyes. It was almost as if they were saying,  _"Good. Act just like your regular self. There's no need to be on your best behavior around my guest."_  Turning back to his roommate for a second time, he tauntingly asked, "I don't know, Reiner. Are you getting the tattoo or not?"

It bugged me how this Reiner guy was still scratching at the shaved side of his head. If he kept at it, he was going to irritate his skin, and that was never a good thing to do when preparing to get a tattoo. "I mean, I don't know, either," he answered honestly. "Annie's really been nagging me about a lot of stuff lately. If I get it, what if it turns out to be the end of us?"

"If she breaks up with you over a tattoo, then she never truly loved you in the first place."

The way Eren had said those words could have silenced an entire room of screaming children. There was a distinct chill in his voice, unlike anything I'd ever heard from him before. It was a certain kind of eeriness that sent goosebumps shooting up my arms and down the back of my neck, leading me think,  _'Hey, not bad. This kid sure does have some guts.'_

Even Hanji must have felt the chill from where she was standing, because after releasing a childish  _Brrr!_ sound from the top of her throat, she said, "You know, that's really cold, Eren! Way to pile on the pressure!"

Sighing, Eren responded by saying, "I'm just telling it like it is. If she's really going to break up with you over something like this, then there wasn't really much of anything to your relationship in the first place. Keeping that in mind, think of your answer. Are you going to do it, or not?"

Such a blatant sense of indecisiveness was not something I'd expected coming from a man of Reiner's build. I mean, Hell, women could get pretty scary when they were pissed off, but was a fear of getting yelled at - or worse, the silent treatment - really worth chasing away your own wants and desires? Personally, I didn't believe so, and Eren was certainly making it very clear that he didn't think so, either.

"Can I take a moment to call her again?" Reiner insisted. The awkward nature of his pleading tone had Hanji nearly popping a blood vessel trying to contain her laughter.

"Go ahead." I didn't understand why he was asking me that, or why he would even need to ask such a thing at all. I wasn't his mother. He could do whatever the Hell he wanted to.

After Reiner had excused himself to make his phone call, Eren flicked his wrist and used his the back of his lips and teeth to make the sound of a cracking whip. At that point, Hanji was so far gone that she, too, had to momentarily leave the room to recompose herself. With just the two of us standing alone, there was no way to ebb the flood of memories from resurfacing; and of course, I wasn't the only one feeling subjected to those thoughts.

"Sorry to drop in so unexpectedly like this," Eren apologized. Yeah, you heard that right. Eren  _apologized_. "I didn't know it was going to end up being such a big deal. I probably should have called first."

"Eh, whatever," I said, my shoulders slumping. "I've dealt with worse clients before." Like this morning, for example. I probably should have used that incident as a means to enforce a new policy: if you are afraid of needles, get the Hell out of my shop. It may sound tough, but it's for their own damn good - and mine.

However, hearing me say that must have made Eren curious. "Oh, yeah? Like who?"

"Heh. Like  _you_."

Most people would have taken offense to that statement, but no, not Eren. He saw it as a compliment. In fact, it was probably the biggest compliment I'd ever given him.

"You're not just saying that, are you?" I could feel the shift in Eren's demeanor, as he stepped closer. His eyes were challenging and sly, much like they always were. However, what I couldn't make sense of was why, after all of the times I'd been annoyed to death by his cocky behavior, why was I suddenly seeing it as a major turn on?

Seeing him inch closer and closer made my lips feel eager. They wanted to play with Eren's just like they had nearly a month ago. Toying with his tongue ring, sliding across his pearly-white teeth. But just as I'd come to my realization - one that I'm almost positive Eren had been sensing as well - Reiner came bursting back into the shop with a round of mighty good news.

"She said I can look over some sketches!" he announced. His face was all smiles, as his chest heaved with happiness. If I hadn't understood Eren's makeshift cracking sound before, I definitely understood it now; this boy was whipped beyond belief.

"Fantastic." Had I said that in any more of a monotone, I would have insulted the dead. Simply looking at my sketches was fine and dandy, but it didn't do one thing: it didn't confirm the customer. More often than not, I would have "clients" come by my shop to look at sketches, only to never show up again. Hanji and I had two words for those types of people - one of them being an expletive, of course - but we typically referred to them as "soul-shoppers".

When our customers look at our sketches, what they don't usually realize is just how much of our trust is being placed into them. Eyes may be considered the windows to the soul, but it's not the same for an artist. An artist has many windows, and those windows are shown through their works. Even if they're merely chicken scratches on a piece of paper, those markings were what the artist was feeling at the time they drew them, and showing one's feelings to another - especially when that person is someone you've never met before - is the biggest leap of faith any artist must take.

I led Eren and Reiner over to the front desk where we kept our book of sketches. Hanji was off somewhere in the back room, probably still trying to muffle her giggles, so I took the liberty of showing off some of our best works. Most of them were typically tattoos that someone would have inked onto their limbs or their torso, but if we tilted the images horizontally, they could work as head tattoos, as well.

"These are our most popular designs," I mentioned, as I continued to flip through the laminated pages of sketched artwork. "They're the go-to designs when people want to get a tattoo, but have no idea what they want to get a tattoo of. We really only have to make minor adjustments to each image; that way, the basis is the same, but every tattoo is still unique."

While Eren nodded his head approvingly at my explanation of how Hanji and I worked our sketches around here, Reiner was intently looking at each of the drawings on the pages, only allowing himself to relax when I took a moment to turn them over. And speaking of, just as I'd been preparing to keep up with my rhythm of turning the pages, I heard a noise that caused made me falter. "What? Saw something you liked?"

"Yeah, actually," Reiner said, seeming a bit antsy. Seriously what was with this kid? He was the size of an elephant, but he was acting like a field mouse. I just couldn't wrap my head around it. "Could you turn back a page?"

In doing so, my eyes swept across two images in particular; one of them being a sketch that I drew, and another being a sketch designed by Hanji. The one that I drew was a sketch of turning gears. I'd been feeling particularly cramped with imagination that day and kept cursing at myself.  _'If only my gears would start turning,'_  I would say, for whatever reason, and that's how that sketch came to be, I suppose.

In Hanji's case, her sketch was an elaborate display of frosty snowflakes melting into hot and fiery flames. Her reasoning behind its making was a bit roundabout, but as she was drawing, she said that she wanted to create something that expressed two physical opposites as if they were almost accepting each other's existence. She saw her sketch as something soft and full of heart-felt warmth; however, I only saw its destructive nature. Needless to say, both sketches were relatively masculine in overall design, so it didn't surprise me when Reiner said that he'd wanted to see them again.

He pointed to the first sketch, the sketch of the spinning gears. "I like this one a lot."

"Why?" I wasn't going to interrogate him, I just wanted to know why my sketch in particular had captured his attention. It's no secret that the significance of tattoos has always been an important aspect of the craft for me, and that's one of the reasons why Hanji and I spent hours working on these sketches. We like to have an alternate option available for those feeling lost, or a bit too bound by the idea of forever. More often than not, when people who have no idea what to get a tattoo of flip through our sketches, they will almost immediately find something that catches their fancy, and even  _more often_ than more often than not, it is something that they can relate to.

"It reminds me of my dad."

There was an unexpected aura of solemness that pooled into the room. I saw Eren bow his head, as if already understanding the circumstances of Reiner's answer. Seeing as I didn't, I asked, "How so?"

Those heavy sighs that cause the head to tip back and the chest to inflate to its fullest extent are the ones to be wary of. They're the sighs of remembrance, but they are also akin of the wishfulness to forget. As Reiner emitted one of those sighs, I knew that I was in for a sob story.

"My dad used to be a mechanic," he explained. "Man, he loved his job more than he loved himself. He would spend hours working on car after car, to the point where he would come home smelling like motor oil and grease every night. It was his dream to eventually open up his own shop. He was even putting away little bits of his paycheck every week to save up for it, but he never got the chance." He took a moment to breathe, stroking the thin plastic covering of the sketch before reaching his conclusion. "One night, when he was driving home from work, he got hit in a head-on collision by a drunk driver who ran through a red light. It's like, the irony of it all, you know? You dedicate so much of your life to fixing cars, and in the end, it's a car that kills you. Damn it."

As one who could sympathize with the loss of a parent, Eren wore a furrowed brow as his hand casually crept up to the tattooed side of his neck. Gently massaging the skin there, he murmured, "I think if you explain to Annie just how much having this tattoo would mean to you, there's no way she could possibly say no. And if she does, well-"

"I'm getting it." I liked the sound of his voice. It sounded strong and determined, just like you'd expect a man of his size was supposed to sound. "No matter what she says, I'm getting it anyway. Maybe not today, but I know that this is the design I want."

"Understood." After Reiner removed his hand from the page, I closed the book and slid it back over to the far side of the counter. "Now that that's settled, we can schedule an appointment."

Fingering through our schedule book, I found the current week and handed it over to Eren's roommate to see if he could find a time slot to his liking. Aside from Eren's removal session next week, we had a pretty open schedule, so he had a lot of options to choose from.

Seeing his name on the sheet for next week, Eren pointed to his time slot and said, "Hey, Reiner. Why don't you come in during this time? You can have Hanji work on you, while Levi  _works on me_."

The way in which Eren had dropped his voice toward the latter part of his sentence made my teeth grind. Why must he act like this while in the presence of other people? Did he have no shame? Wait, that was a dumb question. Of course he had no shame. He had none. Zero. No shame whatsoever.

"That won't work." I made my statement firm and clear. "Hanji and I don't swap sketches. If we're the one who drew it, we're also the one who constructs the tattoo." I turned my attention to Eren's roommate. "If you're really set on getting these gears, then I'll be the one tattooing you. Are there any problems with that?" He shook his head. "Glad to hear it."

When Reiner finally came up with a good time that would fit into his school and work schedules, I marked him down and handed him a small slip of paper with both the date and the time written on it to ensure that he wouldn't forget about his appointment. "A tattoo like this is probably going to take two or three visits to complete, depending on your tolerance to pain, and how long you're comfortable with sitting down and having me scrape at your skull. However, if it ends up needing to be more than three visits, I won't charge you for the extras. Sound fair?"

He nodded a second time and thanked me for my patience.

"See?" Dragging out the word, Eren gave Reiner a playful nudge with the curve of his elbow. "I told you that Levi was the best tattoo artist in town, didn't I? What other tattoo shop would give you this much personalized customer service?"

Damn right. I may complain until my mouth runs dry about my clients, but one thing's for sure, and that's the fact that I treat each and every one of my customers with absolute tolerance and respect.

Except for Eren. Eren was a "special" case.

"You're right, you're right," Reiner agreed, as he tried to shrug away Eren's irksome elbow. "You picked a good guy to go to, you really did. Thanks, man."

Pridefully popping his hip, Eren wore his favourite smirk and said, "What can I say? I'm just that good."

After Eren had claimed to have a six sense, Reiner rolled his eyes and suggested that it was time for them to go. He figured they had already done enough "damage" and that it would be respectful if they were to just get out of our hair.

"That's fine, but can I take a piss first?" Eren asked, later admitting, "I've actually been holding it in ever since we got here."

"That's bad for your kidneys," I pointed out.

"God, I know that already! Can you just tell me where the bathroom is?"

I directed him with my finger toward the back room and instructed him to take a left. "Hanji should still be back there, so if you get lost, just ask her. You shouldn't get lost, though, you know, unless you're really dumb. Which in that case, if you get lost, you can ask her."

Eren flipped me off, as he stomped toward the back room in a huff. I couldn't believe it, but he was pretty damn cute, when I had the upper hand over him. Like a little brat who just couldn't get his way. Perfectly pathetic.

With Eren out of the room, I had the presumption that Reiner would simply thank me again and exit the shop. Maybe he would wait out in the parking lot for Eren, or maybe not. I didn't really know. Whatever my presumptions had been, well, I quickly determined that all of them were wrong.

"Hey."

As I turned my head toward him, I noticed a distinct drop in Reiner's attitude. He was staring down at me, wearing an expression of stern intimidation. I had intentions to ask him what his problem was, but ultimately decided that I didn't feel like playing with fire today. "Yeah?"

"I know about you and Eren."

That could have meant a number of things. He could have meant that he knew about our monetary arrangements, or that he knew about the photograph painting trade we had going on, but something told me that he was referring to the obvious - that he knew about our complex relationship.

"What about us?" It was better to air on the side of caution, then to open my mouth and say something completely opposite of what he was thinking, right? For all I knew, he really could have been talking about our monetary arrangements, or our photograph painting trade. But no, my intuition had been right on its mark, because after making sure that I was granting him my fullest attention, he spoke with an air of threat, saying the words that I wouldn't soon forget.

"Look, I don't know very much about what's going on between the two of you, but all I know is that it's getting pretty serious. You are literally  _all_  that Eren talks about, day and night, so whether you're feeling the same way as him or not, I think you should know that he is seriously into you."

With a slow, counted step, Reiner left things between the two of us with a final warning.

"He's already been hurt once. Don't be the person who hurts him again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here! 
> 
> And I bet you're all wondering, "Chappy! Why are you posting the chapter so early? What is this madness!" Well, to tell you the truth, I've been working very hard all week - along with two essays, a French midterm, and Statistics homework - to get this chapter out to you on time, before I pack up and ship myself of to an anime convention! (If you follow my tumblr, you've probably seen my progression post titled "Things I have to finish writing before AAC", haha!)
> 
> Anyway, things are definitely starting to blossom between Eren and Levi! The tension is slowly building between them, while Hanji and Reiner are starting to question whether their relationship is a good idea or not. What's going to happen next, we just don't know!
> 
> But honestly, I truly hope that you enjoyed this chapter! I worked super hard to get it to you guys on time, I really did! (:
> 
> And of course, thank you for taking the time to read! I always, always appreciate it!
> 
> \- Chappy
> 
> Fun fact: Eren's roommate was actually going to be Connie, until I made the last minute switch to Reiner. Just thought you guys would enjoy that interesting tidbit!


	14. Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Labels and trust and rose-colored glasses.

_"He's already been hurt once. Don't be the person who hurts him again."_

I've lived my life gradually losing my sense of trust in others. I mean, look at children. The world that they see is a world that's been masked by rose-colored glasses. Everything is safe, everything is secure, and every stranger is their best friend. As they grow older, however, they're taught to be wary of the people they don't know, they learn about the wonders of mortality, and they discover the presence of war. Slowly but surely, those rose-colored glasses begin to crack, and as they shatter, the world as they know it is flooded with color; true color.

I guess you could say my rose-colored glasses came off pretty early in life, and not because they were forced away from me, or anything like that. No, I took them off. I wanted to see my surroundings for what they truly were, and for what it meant to just honestly be alive. So when I saw a dead squirrel lying on the side of the road, I asked my parents to tell me the truth about what had happened to it; not to make up some dumb tale about how it was "sleeping" and everything would be fine. But they didn't. They lied to me. I could see it, though. I could see the truth.

And for that reason, my sense of trust slowly began to vanish.

When I was six, my parents began to argue about the bills. Our heat had been shut off and our landline hadn't been working for weeks. When I asked them to tell me what was wrong, they told me that we were going to be fine and that there was nothing for me to worry about. When I was eight, I remembered smelling a sharp fragrance, distinct from my mother's flowery perfume, on my father's neck after I'd hugged him. When I asked him why he smelled so bad, he told me that he forgot to take a shower that morning and ran off to clean himself off right away. When I was nine, my mom told me that we were moving and that my dad wasn't coming with us. When I asked her why, she finally opened up to me and told me the truth, the truth that, sadly, I had already known.

My father was a gambler, struggled with bouts of infidelity, and essentially caused our family to be torn apart. Because of his gambling problem, money was always tight and I very much understood the meaning of the word "no". And because of his infidelity, my parents ended up getting divorced when I was in the fifth grade. Right before middle school started, my mom and I uprooted ourselves and moved to a new town where the scenery was unfamiliar but the people were all the same; still living their lives like the world was made of roses.

None of it made sense. None of it made any freaking sense. I was a good guy. Sometimes a jerk, but a good guy nonetheless. Why the Hell would I want to hurt Eren, if I'd been hurt, too?

Now, I'm not talking about my "daddy issues" here, Hell no. What I'm saying is that, just like Eren, I've been cheated on, as well; and more than once, actually. But the thing is, seeing as I was so desensitized to the entire situation, I already knew that it was happening, where it was happening, and how I would handle it. Like taking out the trash or tearing up a piece of paper, we'd break up and move on. No hard feelings, no long-lasting trauma. It was as simple as that. But that's where Eren and I differ. Unfortunately, he had still been proudly sporting those rose-colored shades when he found out about his ex-lover's affair, and that was what led to his emotional demise.

Needless to say, Eren and I both saw the world for what it truly was now. No longer was it washed over in rose-colored bliss; instead, the colors of a world previously unknown had taken over.

When Hanji came back into the main shop, it didn't surprise me that she was still suppressing soft giggles. Once she started laughing, it was nearly impossible to get her to stop. I almost considered tormenting her with the thought of dead puppies to get her to quit, but decided that it wasn't worth it. I had bigger issues to worry about, and Reiner was only one of them. Graciously enough, he had already left, by the time Hanji re-entered the room. Just when I knew she was about to ask about his lack of presence, my questioning tone interrupted her.

"Is Eren still back there?"

Interesting. All I had to do was ask about Eren and she shut up immediately.

Clearing her throat and wiping beneath her eyes, Hanji nodded and replied, "Yeah, he is. We talked for a little bit, before he headed into the bathroom. Why?"

Why? Wasn't it obvious why I was asking? I needed to talk to him, rather,  _we_ needed to talk to each other. It was about time that the both of us got a few things straightened out.

I shrugged and cast my gaze away from her judging eyes. She could tell that I was up to something. "Just wondering." But it was more than that, and she knew it.

"Is that so?" I nodded, but it still wasn't enough. She pursued. "I see, I see. Where's Reiner?"

After telling her that he had left no more than a few minutes ago, we grew painfully silent. Ironically, it was the type of silence that should have felt natural between us - the silence that we'd become accustomed to - but for whatever reason, the weight of our conversation caused our quiet tongues to taste sour.

Unable to bear the bitterness any longer, I was the first to cave.

"Before he left, Eren's roommate gave me a warning." I didn't feel like addressing him by name. It was a rotten habit I'd formed over the years, where if I felt like somebody had wronged me, I wouldn't give them the benefit of being named. Hanji and I had known each other long enough for her to be able to pick up on that strange little quirk of mine, so undoubtably, before I'd even mentioned anything about the warning, she must have known that something was up.

Her arms began to fold, as her expression became a hint more serious. It was times like this where I almost wished that Eren would come strutting around the corner so that I could avoid talking about the matter any further. But alas, wishes had never been on my side.

"What did he say?" Stepping closer, her entire demeanor and body language began to shift, and not only was she immersed with complete curiosity, but she was doused in a heightened manner of protectiveness, as well. "What kind of warning was it? A threatening one?"

"I guess you could call it that." It wasn't like Reiner had gone too far into detail, but if his firm stance and his aggressive baritone were any indications of his intent, one would most likely presume that his statement hadn't been spoken as a mere warning, but indeed, as a threat. "And he said basically the same thing that you did, so..."

Perplexity furrowed Hanji's brow, as she tried to make sense of what I was saying. Clearly, she'd already forgotten just how adamant she'd been about protecting Eren's well-being the night prior. Maybe this would jog her memory:

"He doesn't want me to hurt Eren."

And there it was. The look of understanding that, quite frankly, was horribly insulting.

Was I really that untrustworthy? I mean, I know I have my jerk-like tendencies, but where did this implication that I was going to hurt Eren even come from? I could understand Reiner's skepticism - Hell, the kid hardly even knew me, but Hanji? We'd known each other for longer than I liked to admit. She should have known better; she should have known  _me_ better.

"Anyway, that's pretty much all he said."

Without saying much else on the matter, I told Hanji to make herself useful by cleaning up the shelves and rearranging the inks. Over the course of last week and the week before that, they'd become increasingly more and more disorganized, and just the thought of having that much disarray in my shop made me itch. Hanji, still wanting to know more about my little chat with Reiner, huffed at the order, but migrated over to the shelves anyway.

While she was occupied with that, I figured that I'd check up on Eren and see if everything was alright. He'd said that he needed to take a piss, not flush out his entire waste disposal system. If he was like any normal human being, he should have been done by now.

I tried not to seem too concerned, as I discretely headed into the back room. In the off chance that Eren was back there waiting for me, I didn't want him to start thinking that I'd actually been worried about him.

And sure enough, there he was.

Seated with his legs crossed on the old tattoo chair, Eren was casually scrolling through the applications on his cell phone, not really clicking on any one of them in particular, just simply sliding his finger back and forth along the display screen. When he heard my footsteps, his head snapped up and for less than a second, I was able to depict the genuine excitement within his amber eyes, before that untainted innocence was overturned into something much more possessive.

"I knew you'd come back here. I was waiting for you."

Of course he did, and of course he was. That was Eren for you; always making dumb assumptions that somehow almost always ended up being right.

"I wanted to make sure you didn't drown in the toilet bowl," I falsely claimed, but knowing Eren, he would easily be able to pinpoint my crappy sarcasm. "It just seems like the stupid kind of thing you would do."

"You were worried about me." He wasn't asking; he was stating. That snarky brat was so sure of himself that he didn't even have to question my reasoning. He just knew. Damn it.

I could feel what little patience I had left for him seeping down from my very core and pooling at the soles of my firmly planted feet. But that feeling of utter annoyance didn't last for as long as I'd been expecting, because just when the thought of up and leaving the room to prove a point had crossed my mind, I found myself shuffling over to the tattoo chair and sitting down beside Eren, our bodies almost too close for comfort.

My exhaling breath felt so natural that I'd almost tricked myself into believing that I was a smoker. Just add some tabaco and some fire and I'd have a lovely little cloud floating out of my mouth. Wouldn't that be nice.

But Eren remained stiff, stoic. He'd locked the display screen on his cell phone before I even sat down. Huh. That was something that only suspiciously guilty teenagers tended to do. I mean, hey, if he wanted to look up porn on his phone, that was his business, but the way in which his teeth hugged his lower lip, chewing at the skin and grinding into the gums, corrected my initial observation. Eren wasn't guilty; he was nervous.

And damn it, I was nervous, too.

It wasn't like this was the first time Eren had sat down and talked with one another; we did that on a monthly basis. The difference between then and now, however, was the topic at hand. We weren't going to be talking about sob stories or life-long dreams; we were going to be talking about  _us_.

Playing with his phone case by slipping it on and off of the device, Eren was seemingly waiting for me to make the first move, but surprise was on my side when he drew in a breath and began to speak himself. "Reiner said something to you, didn't he?"

Not what I'd been expecting, but I went with it. "Yeah, he did. Why?"

Eren shook his head and set his cell phone aside. Something about his air of uncertainty told me that he didn't really know what to say, but that didn't stop him from speaking anyway. "I sort of figured he might," he murmured. "I can't really explain it, I just had a feeling."

From the corner of mine, I watched Eren's eyes as they shifted back and forth between sparing me a glance and looking off to the edge of my leg. He wanted to ask me something, I could tell. So, I let him.

"...What did he say exactly?"

If I didn't feel like getting into too much detail with Hanji, I  _really_ didn't feel like expanding on the subject with Eren. I needed to get my side of the situation out and in the open before anyone else started claiming that I was going to hurt this poor kid.

"I have a better question." When I said that, Eren perked right up into attention. I wanted to use his alertness to my advantage, and so, with my entire body turning to face him, I went against all of the times my mother had warned me about the detrimental effects of doing so, and stared directly into the sun. "Do you trust me, Eren?"

Trust was a mighty big favor to ask of someone, and I'm not even entirely certain if one can even call it a "favor". Trust is something that's earned over time, and once it's gone, it's gone forever. No matter how much rekindling is done, or how many times "I'm sorry" is said, the trust that was once held together by a bond of steel will only ever be supported by a thin strip of aluminum.

Because of my question, Eren couldn't have been caught more off of his guard even if he'd tried, but he didn't show his shock through a jolted movement in his body; his surprise was in his eyes. Wide and full of wonder, Eren looked at me as if I had just asked him to do a backflip through a ring of fire. But hey, that's what trusting someone essentially was, wasn't it? Albeit, soon enough, his excitable irises toned down a bit, as he was able to process the depth of what I was asking him - it was a simple yes or no question, but depending on Eren's answer, the "relationship" that we currently held could very well become effected by it.

Scratch that. Whether he said yes or not, something was definitely going to change between us. The only question was, was it going to be for better, or for worse? And even that was debatable.

Understandably, Eren allowed my question to sink in for a bit longer before answering. If he said yes too quickly, it would make him sound desperate, potentially leading me to believe that he was only saying such a thing as a ploy to getting something of gain. And if he said no too quickly, well, then he'd just look like a jerk. At the end of the day, he was doing exactly what I wanted him to be doing, and that was think. I wanted him to think about his answer and really weight out his options, before saying something that he could potentially regret.

So, when he said, "Yes, Levi. I do trust you," I knew that he had meant it.

From the clench in his jaw, to the point of his toes, everything about Eren's body language spoke the truth. He _honestly_  trusted me, and if I said that that didn't make me feel just the slightest bit of relief, I would be lying.

Oh, but Eren didn't stop there. Somehow regaining the momentum of a lost conversation, he continued to express the feelings of trust that he held for me. "You've given me no reason to doubt you, Levi," he explained, further adding, "In fact, you've given me every reason  _to_ trust you. And you know, I have a bad feeling that whatever Reiner talked to you about while I wasn't there triggered you to ask me that question."

"Well, you're not wrong," I said, as I sighed, "but I also wanted to know whether or not you trust me for my own sake, as well. I mean, I'm not one for slapping labels on people, but I think that you and I can agree that we've reached the point in whatever 'this' is that's between us where I wouldn't even know what to call it, even if I  _did_  feel like putting a label on it."

Knowing that I was right, Eren nodded. "I think I get it," he responded, "and I think I know where Reiner was coming from. He was probably saying something about our relationship, right? How he doesn't approve of it?"

Close, but not quite. While the disapproval was implied, it wasn't verbally stated. Still, Eren was a little off the mark.

"It was more like, don't be the person who hurts him again."

I watched as Eren's face dropped. He'd gone from looking pleasantly content with our conversation to being utterly betrayed by it. "...What?" he spoke, in no more than a whisper. "What do you mean?"

Eren was asking the wrong question. He knew what I meant, he simply didn't understand why I was saying what I was. I wasn't the one to blame for his confusion; if anything, he should have been asking Reiner - and even Hanji, for that matter. But even if it wasn't the question he'd asked, I answered him according to what he'd been meaning to say.

"It would seem that your roommate is under the impression that I'm going to hurt you, or something like that. Hell, even Hanji's been thinking the same thing. And it's like, I don't understand why they've come to that assumption? I've been faithful to each and every one of the partners that I've spent time with in the past, and what? They were the ones who weren't faithful."

I didn't mean to out myself and my past experiences with accepting infidelity. Regardless of whether I'd meant to say it or not, Eren had still heard me, and in turn, he'd acquired a somber, yet longing look in his eyes - it was a look of understanding, as well as of sympathy. The pain that he'd felt? Oh, yeah. I'd felt it, too. But again, unlike Eren, I'd been prepared for it. My rose-colored glasses had been rose-colored no more.

Just when I'd thought that the shift in our topic had formed a rift between us, I felt something gentle caress my thigh. The feeling was wavering, as if testing the waters of my consent, and just as my vision met with the cause of said feeling, Eren's hand quickly withdrew itself from my leg. Was he trying to comfort me? How cute; how unnecessary. "If you want to touch me, you can. Just don't let the reasoning behind your touches be for something remorseful."

I didn't need Eren's pity, and he didn't need mine. We were merely the product of lies and deceit. Our pain and our progress were what made us some of those most trustworthy people in the world - at least, that's what I liked to believe about myself. I wasn't sure about Eren's point of view on the matter, and honestly, I didn't feel like asking him. How awkward would that be, right?  _"So, hey, because we were both cheated on, that probably makes us two of the most trusted people in the world, right? Crazy, huh?"_ Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

As I pondered my momentary idiocy, I felt that fleeting hand cascade up and down my thigh again, before promptly stationing itself dead center. What was Eren doing exactly? Was he trying to get my attention? Again, completely unnecessary. He already had me, in more ways than one. What did he want?

"I know you wouldn't hurt me." Eren's voice had been so soft that if I hadn't been listening, I would have missed what he'd said. Maybe that was why he touched my leg for a second time; maybe it wasn't just a ploy to grab my attention, but a tactic to heighten it, as well. Nicely done. I was impressed.

Then again, Eren was probably just touching my leg, because he wanted to touch my leg.

Seeing as I'd been too preoccupied by Eren's hand to come up with a clever response, he repeated himself, this time speaking in a tone that was much more firm and a lot more demanding of an answer. "Levi, I know you wouldn't hurt me. And I might as well say this now, but you should probably know that I wouldn't hurt you, either."

I hadn't picked up on it the first time he'd said it, but Eren was specifically using the word "wouldn't" instead of "won't". Future tense. And that was absolutely correct. Why say that I won't hurt him when there was nothing to hurt? We weren't together. We weren't dating. Just a minute ago, we'd verbally expressed that we didn't even know what the Hell we were to each other. And so why would Eren say that I "won't" hurt him when "wouldn't" makes so much more sense?

Feeling as daring as I usually did, I wore a quirked brow and tilted my head sideways. It was time we settled this once and for all. "Is that a promise, Eren?" I asked, leaving him in the dark to pick and choose what he thought I'd meant by that question. Surprisingly enough, Eren and I were two entities who surfed on the same wavelength more often than not, so it didn't take long for him to catch onto my drift. We were being incredibly roundabout about it, but the basis of the question was still there.

Basically, we were asking each other out. It was as simple as that, only our method of doing so was horrendously discrete and kind of confusing.

Just to make sure that we were still on the same page, I rested my hand against Eren's. Even with the considerable amount of time that had passed, he'd still kept his hand firmly clasped against my thigh. Amazing. Actually, who was I kidding? I kind of liked it.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Eren eventually said. After I'd placed my hand on top of his, he'd been too preoccupied with staring at it to even focus on what I'd asked him. For a minute there, I was almost getting ready to repeat myself. But alas, no repetition was needed. Eren had heard me loud and clear, and from that point on, all that was left was to move forward. "So, uh... Should I start keeping my promise now?"

Damn, he was adorable. I liked him. I really liked.

As if the answer wasn't already obvious, I encouraged him by giving him a prompting nod, to which he immediately acquired a pep in his step and clenched his hand into a steady fist. "Then let's start over, Levi."

Wait, what? Why were we going to start over? If anything, we should be pressing onward, not receding back. Eren wasn't making any sense.

Detecting my confusion, Eren slipped his hand from my hold and stood up from the tattoo chair that we'd both been seated on. After straightening out his shirt and clearing his throat, he extended the same hand that I'd been holding forward, enticing me to shake it.

"Hey there," he spoke, seemingly as if he were introducing himself for the very first time. "I'm Eren Yeager, and I'd like to get to know you better. Can I have your number?"

How charming.

It was true that even after two months of service, three painted canvases, and four or five kisses later, Eren and I  _still_ hadn't exchanged personal phone numbers. It was almost embarrassing, really. And so, with my hand meeting his own in a brief, but firm shake, I shrugged and said what felt like the obvious at this point.

"Yeah, sure. Why not." Yeah. I really liked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> And there we have it! More and more relationship progression! Now Eren and Levi are "dating" technically! At long last, right? It only took them fourteen chapters to get together, pffff.
> 
> I also apologize for how late this chapter is being published. You guys were spoiled last week with such an early update that this must have felt so much later! I really do apologize! I'll try to work harder next time!
> 
> As for now, though, I really do hope that you enjoyed this chapter! From here on out, feelings and such are continuously going to develop between Levi and Eren, so I hope you're ready for it! (:
> 
> And as always, thank you for taking the time to read! I truly always appreciate it!
> 
> \- Chappy


	15. Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginnings and endings, mixed with an ounce of sleep deprivation.

I didn't get any sleep that night, and neither did Eren.

I felt like I was back in college, feeding off of a stupid crush that was already starting to flourish into something more. It was almost pathetic for a man of my age to be getting so excited over having someone else's phone number, but Eren wasn't exactly contributing to - or against - the cause.

We texted each other until the early hours of the morning, when all surrounding sound ceased to exist, and the only noises that could be heard were the faint, electronic clicks from my cell phone's display keys, as well as the gentle laughter that rumbled within my chest when Eren happened to reply with something funny...which was surprisingly often.

It was amazing how someone's entire personality could change, when a technological barrier was placed in front of them. It was shameful to admit, but texting Eren somehow seemed more bearable than actually chatting with him face-to-face. Granted, he used a fair amount of winky faces and tongue emoticons in his text speech, not having to actually deal with his arrogant attitude within the same space at the same time gave me the opportunity to think of craftier responses than I'd originally been coming up with.

For example, when Eren had asked me something pretty snarky around the midnight hour, what I ended up replying with left him speechless for a good four or five minutes. When I brought attention to his evident pause, he claimed to have needed to use the bathroom. That was no excuse. Eren was probably one of those people who brought their cell phones into the bathroom with them, when they used the facilities. Not that it was something I liked to imagine, but I could all but see him flicking through app after app as he waited for nature's call. Tch, disgusting.

Back to Eren's question, he'd asked me if I had ever painted something so beautiful that I couldn't even believe my own abilities. By itself, that question have been fine and dandy, but a few seconds later, after he'd already hit send, he just  _had_  to add  _"_ _ **You know, like me?**_ _"_ \- winky face.

Using his confidence to my advantage, I owned up to my late-night, painting escapades and responded with something along the lines of,  _"_ _ **Actually, yeah. You've been an inspiration for quite a few of my personal paintings. I have three of them propped up in my studio right now.**_ _"_

Cue Eren's five minutes of silence.

It felt good having the upper hand over him for once. Alright, who was I kidding? It felt  _great_. Simply knowing that Eren must have been staring blankly at the screen of his cell phone, unable to fathom the English language or how to use it was enough for me.

After revisiting the idea of the alphabet, Eren had typed back something like,  _"_ _ **You can't be serious**_ _,"_ or maybe it was more like  _"_ _ **I call bluff.**_ _"_ But it was no bluff. I was in too deep for any of it - any of my feelings or any of my thoughts - to be a bluff. And if Eren truly didn't believe what I was saying (well, typing), then...

_" **Why don't you just come over and see for yourself?** "_

The invitation hadn't been immediate, but like the idiot that Eren was, he replied with three question marks, before saying,  _"_ _ **What? Right now?**_ _"_

It took everything in me to stop my thumbs from replying with something sarcastic like they'd been used to doing all night. Instead, I took a shockingly softer approach and set up an actual date and time for Eren to come over.  _"_ _ **No, not now, obviously.**_ _"_ Although, apparently, it wasn't all that obvious. _"_ _ **How about on Friday after 7PM?**_ _"_

Hanji and I usually closed the shop earlier on Fridays. Surprisingly, not many people scheduled tattooing sessions in the later hours of the day, so with nothing better to do, we tended to lock up around 6PM and grabbed something to eat together. It's kind of been an unwritten ritual between the two of us for the past couple of years. She'll probably be baffled, if not a little hurt, to hear that I have different plans scheduled for the evening.

_" **Can we make it 8PM? I have a study group at 6:30, and we usually take a break to eat dinner.** "_

Well, I'll be damned. Eren  _actually_ studies? Then again, if my recollection of college life is accurate, most study groups rarely do any actual studying. Most of the time, they're just for show. I would have called him out on it, but I could feel the fighter within me starting to fade.

_"_ _ **That's fine. Don't expect me to give you more food when you come over, though.**_ _"_  I'd meant that lightheartedly, but also not entirely. I had no idea what kind of foods Eren liked or didn't like. The only thing we'd actually consumed in the presence of one another was ice cream. I'd have to remind myself to pick up a carton of mint chocolate chip on my way home on Friday, you know, just in case. Damn it. Just thinking about that stupid flavor of ice cream reminded me of our first kiss. I wasn't remembering it for the good or for the bad; I was remembering it in a way that left me with a minty taste in my mouth, craving for more.

Eren stopped sending replies around 4AM. The last message he'd sent was something about how he couldn't wait to see how I'd painted the pictures he'd given me. I figured that was a good place to let things lie, otherwise our sleep-deprived brains might have meshed with our overly affectionate tongues, and we could have ended up saying some pretty stupid things. I mean, don't get me wrong, we'd already said some pretty stupid things, but tired, nonsensical babble was even worse.

The image of Eren laying on his bed, curled up in a half-fetal form with his cell phone clutched to his chest, was almost too vivid that my mind refused to think of anything else. Eren wasn't in his bedroom anymore; he was in my head, defenseless and vulnerable, and until I got my feet moving and my fingers stroking, in my head was where he would stay.

While Eren had pleasant dreams about whatever it is that kids his age dream about, I was seated on the floor of my studio with my fist in a jar of honey-colored paint. Normally, I'd use this type of color for highlights only, but seeing as the image I was attempting to depict was of Eren while he was sleeping, my absolute instinct was to do everything opposite of what I'd normally do.

But hey, that's pretty much my entire mantra for when I'm painting pictures of Eren, anyway.

Painting that canvas took up the better portion of what little of the night there was left. Just as I was adding the finishing touches to Eren's cheeks and chest, a horrifying sight began to spill through the windows of my studio: the sunrise. The Godawful sunrise.

Unable to contain my disdain for nature's alarm clock, I groaned audibly before standing up and stretching out my limbs. Hearing crack after pop was not only a relief, but also a grim reminder of just how long I'd been sitting down. If the sun was already coming up, it had to have been sometime after 7. Hell, I was going to be late for work.

I didn't exactly know what disturbed me more; the fact that I'd stayed up all night with thoughts consumed by Eren, or the fact that I'd stayed up all night and I didn't feel like death. I might have looked like it, but I didn't feel tired at all and it was kind of weird. There was nothing to complain about, though. If that's the way my body wanted to play, then so be it.

That rush of adrenaline started to slip away as soon as I got stepped into the shower.

The warmth that encompassed me was like a blanket of lethargy. I wanted nothing more than to rest my head against the shower wall and let myself fade away for just a minute or two. I knew that if I gave myself just that simple, moment's reprieve, I wouldn't have been able to bring myself back, and so I lowered the water's temperature to a much more tepid heat.

It took longer than I'd anticipated to scrub off most of the paint that caked my fingers and my fists, but with just a little bit of grey still embedded beneath my nails, I got out of the shower and got dressed.

I'd gotten into the habit of checking my phone to see what the weather was going to be like for the day, before actually getting dressed. If it was going to be warm all day, I'd wear something light. If it was going to be cold all day, I'd wear something heavy. If it was going to be that awkward "cold in the morning, but warmer toward the afternoon" kind of day, I'd wear something heavy enough, but something that also had the option of being removed. Cardigans and hooded jackets were some of my best friends in the late summer, early autumn months.

As I slid my finger along my cell phone's display screen to unlock it, I noticed that I had one unread text message. It was from Eren - no surprise there.

He'd sent it around thirty minutes ago, which could have been somewhere around the time when I was cursing out the sun, or it could have possibly been when I was just getting into the shower. The concept of time was a blur in the mornings, so I really couldn't tell.

_" **Wow, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you like that. But hey, while I'm messaging you, I need you to tell me your address. I can't exactly come over to your place if I don't know where you live.** "_

True, very true. Seeing as I was scrapped for time, I typed out the address of my apartment as quickly as possible, as well as my room number, before hitting send and switching over to the weather application. Huh. It looked like it was going to be one of those "cold in the morning, but warm in the afternoon" kind of days.

Pulling on a grey cardigan along with dark wash jeans and a simple beige tee, I was halfway out the front door before I noticed that the grey of my cardigan matched almost perfectly with the same shade of grey under my nails. How utterly festive of me. I was impressed with my subconscious self.

Stopping at my usual coffee shop on the way to work, I made small talk with Petra about a new TV show she was currently obsessing over, while Erd fixed my drink. I would have made better sense of what she was saying, had I been mentally sober, but from what I could tell from her excited chatter was that it was something about lifespan of trees. Fascinating.

I ended up taking the shorter route for the rest of my drive to work. It was a route that has its ups and its downs, along with its never ending potholes and heavy construction, which was why I typically tried to avoid it at all costs, but in a pinch, it definitely was a whole lot shorter that my preferred route.

When I finally pulled my car into the shop's parking lot, I had to check the time in order to make sure that I wasn't dreaming. No. No, I wasn't dreaming. It was definitely past 8AM, and yet Hanji's car was no where in sight. Feeling as if I'd played through this scene before, I pulled up to one of my designated parking spots and shifted the gears into park. With my car still running, I reached for my secondary cup holder - the one that wasn't currently occupied by my cup of coffee - and grabbed my cell phone.

My intention had been to see if she had left me any messages saying that she was going to be late or otherwise, but nothing of that nature popped up. Slightly irked by her lack of communication, I killed the engine of my vehicle, grabbed my coffee, and made my way over to the main entrance of the shop, where I unlocked the front door and let myself inside.

I had to say, the shop had a calming aura to it when Hanji - or anyone, for that matter - wasn't around. It almost felt right to just keep the lights off and have everything surrounded by a sheet of darkness, but I was probably only thinking that way because I was running on no sleep and taking a nap sounded like a heavenly idea.

I felt like an elementary school teacher who was about to show their class a movie, as I flicked on only one row of lights. There would always be that one kid who sat in the far back of the classroom, who dared to claim that they were afraid of the dark and needed at least one row of lights on, to which the entire class would groan in disapproval. I always hated that kid. Movies were meant for the dark, not one row of lights.

Enjoying the simplicity of silence while it lasted, I clocked in for the morning and looked over the agenda for the day. It would seem that we only had two appointments scheduled; both of them being in the afternoon, and both of them being Hanji's clients. Fate would have it where two separate people had wanted two separate sketches that Hanji had specifically designed. Fate would also have it that those two separate people just so happened to schedule their appointments on the same day, around the same time. And fate would really have it that an hour after idly shuffling around the shop, tidying things up here and there, that Hanji  _still_ hadn't shown up yet. By this point, I wasn't even mad anymore; I was starting to get worried.

Hanji always called, or at least sent a text message, when she was planning on being late. There was even one time when she'd called me on my cell phone and through the shop's telephone to announce that she was stuck in traffic and would be approximately three minutes late. Three minutes. Three, stupid minutes. This was an entire hour and I still hadn't heard a single word from her.

I tried calling her home phone to see if maybe she'd slept through her alarm, but that ended up being a no-go. I didn't bother leaving her a voice mail, and went straight to calling her on her cell. When she didn't answer to that, either, I sent her three, rapid-fire text messages to see if she'd respond to an annoying buzz-fest, but again, nothing.

There was only one other reason that I could recall for Hanji being this unavailable, and it was when she and Mike had gotten into their heated arguments and would abruptly call things off. And something told me by the way she'd slowly sauntered into the shop around noontime, looking like a sunken mess, that that was exactly what had happened...again.

"I tried calling you," I said, folding my arms and standing upon her entry. "And texting you."

"I know," she sighed, purposefully refusing to make eye contact. "I didn't feel like looking at my cell phone for the past couple of hours."

"I called your home phone, too." I wasn't going to forget to mention that, especially when her home phone was what I'd called first.

"I haven't been home since last night."

I would have asked where she'd been, but I honestly didn't need to; her face said it all. She must have spent the night at Mike's, only for them to break off things in the morning. That's just how their relationship was. Rocky, unsettled, and completely unpredictable, but full of a passionate romance that one could instantly get drunk off of. Not exactly my cup of coffee, whereas Hanji practically lived for the thrill of surprise after surprise; however, it was that very lifestyle that always seemed to come back and bite her in the end.

"Mike and I broke up," she said, as if it weren't already obvious. The silence must have been getting to her, otherwise she wouldn't have said anything at all. She knew that I already knew what was going on, but something in the absence of sound must have been telling her to say it anyway.

And how does one respond to such a statement, exactly? It's not like it was my place to say I'm sorry; I'd always known that their relationship was in constant danger of ending at the drop of a beat, and I'd verbally expressed my feelings about it on more than one occasion. Maybe that's why Hanji felt so comfortable expressing her fears about my relationship with Eren. Huh. It all made sense now. Well, then. She'd be happy to hear what I had to say, then.

"Eren and I are dating."

I'd neglected to tell her about our sudden switch in relationship status, as well as our cell phone number swap, the day before. And damn, did it feel weird to say that.  _Eren and I are dating_. We hadn't officially been on  _a date_ yet, but we were  _dating_.

If you really want to get technical, maybe that trip to the ice cream parlor could have counted as our first date. I mean, we'd even had our first kiss on that night as well, so why not? I'd have to text Eren later to ask him about it, or better yet, I could wait until Friday. That way, I could ask him in person, potentially exposing myself to a flustered reaction that I wouldn't be able to get from a message typed out over a cell phone. Sure, I might be greeted with another, five-minute pause where Eren would claim to have had run off to the bathroom again, but that wouldn't be nearly as priceless as seeing his face light up like neon lights - then again, all of this was only potentially speaking. Like the little brat he was, Eren could have just as easily laughed off my question and flipped it around to his advantage.

However, I'd already made my decision to wait until Friday to ask him about it; I really didn't know what to expect until then.

"You two...you're what?"

I'll admit, it was pretty heartless to turn the attention over to me when Hanji was obviously hurting, but what better way to get her mind off of her own problems when she could worry about mine, right? It wasn't like dating Eren was a problem - it was one-hundred and one problems, actually - but to Hanji...well, she'd probably view things a bit differently.

"When did this happen?"

I shrugged. "Less than twenty-four hours ago. After his roommate left, to be more precise."

"It happened yesterday?"

"Yeah?" For once, I didn't exactly know where she was going with her interrogations. Was she going to berate me for my negligence or congratulate me for my acceptance? I couldn't tell, and to be honest, neither option sounded all that pleasant.

To my surprise, as well as my satisfaction, Hanji let out a sigh and removed her armor. She was done protecting what she couldn't prevent, and Eren's feelings for me were beyond her control; and the same went for my feelings towards him.

"I guess I can't really say much else from what I've already said." Hanji crossed her arms, after rubbing at one of her eyes. She'd been crying; I could see it in the splotches that speckled her face. "I just hope that you two will be able to work out your problems better than Mike and I can."

It was visually painful to see Hanji so hurt. Just what the Hell had the two of them fought over this time? Their last big fight had been over something so stupid that I couldn't even remember what it was, and I'm almost certain that neither of them would have been able to tell me what had happened if I were to ask them about it. Still, Hanji had suffered enough today, so I didn't dare reprimand her for her tardiness. What I  _did_ dare to do might have been seen as a bit too extreme by some, but you know what? Who cares. It was my shop, so I could do whatever the Hell I wanted with it, and so we closed it up for rest of the day.

It wasn't like Hanji could actually work and work  _well_  in the mental state that she was in. In fact, I was actually stunned that she'd even managed to make it to the shop at all. The last time she and Mike had one of their spats, she called in sick. The time before that, she left me a voice mail describing how her heart had been completely shattered and she wouldn't be able to make it in that day. And the time before that, their fallout had happened in the lot right outside of the shop. Needless to say, she left early that day.

I hadn't been exaggerating when I'd said that these feuds between Hanji and her boyfriend (currently ex-boyfriend) happened a lot. The frequency of their break ups was simply so common that whenever they occurred, I immediately knew what to do in order to cheer her up: take her out to eat and pay for everything. Absolutely everything.

It'd be redundant to go through all of the details of our meal together, but that's what we did. After we gave our clients a call and delicately explained our situation to them, we locked up the shop and headed out to eat - and just like I'd promised to, I paid for everything. Everything from the diet Coke that she'd ordered to the twenty percent tip that our waitress rightfully deserved, I paid for it all.

We kept the conversation to a minimum during our meal, which I'm sure she appreciated. She wanted some time to think, and Hell, I could have used some time to think, as well. Unbeknownst to her, I actually had a lot to think about. Forget the fact that my brain was running on toxins, I had to start planning for Eren's coming over on Friday. Like, what would we even do? I didn't have a TV, only a laptop. Maybe we could watch a movie on it. Nah, that was kind of lame. Besides, what if our tastes in movies were completely different?

I was so lost in my plans that I'd almost forgotten Eren's primary reason for coming over: to see the canvases I'd painted. With that thought in mind, I could feel my pulse beginning to race. Those paintings were some of the most personal pieces I'd ever created, and in three days time, I'd been showing them off to the one person whom they should never be seen by.

Damn it. I wasn't sure if I was ready or not.

 

* * *

 

Fate really must have had something against me lately,  _because_   _as fate would have it_ , those three days packed up their belongings, waved their goodbyes, and shipped themselves off at the speed of sound. Within the span of those said three days, Hanji and Mike got back together, a client passed out while I was tattooing a constellation onto her hip, and Eren and I had sent a grand total of five-hundred and forty-five text messages to each other. Seventy-two hours had never gone by so fast.

It was inevitable that the entirety of my Friday  _day_ had been spent thinking about Eren. He was coming over later that evening and I still had no idea what we were going to do besides look at some canvases. That would take us, what? Five, ten minutes at the most? Things would be all,  _"Oh, yeah. Here are the pictures I painted of you, when my thoughts were utterly consumed by you."_  Yeah, because that's not creepy at all.

Unable to keep up with the trending time, I was in a state of disbelief as Hanji and I locked up the shop for the night and got into our separate cars. That was it? The day was already over? I could honestly swear that the both of us had just gotten there. I must have been imagining things. But seriously, where did the day go?

On the ride back to my apartment, I kept the music off and my mind focused. Just like I'd planned to do days beforehand, I'd stopped at one of the drug stores that were located near my place and picked up a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream. It probably wasn't the best brand of ice cream that was out there, and it definitely wouldn't live up to that ice cream parlor's standards of perfection, but if Eren was hungry enough when he came over, it would get the job done...hopefully. Out of all of those messages we'd sent to each other, not a single one of them had read  _"_ _ **Are you a picky eater?**_ _"_

Keeping a level head and an even leveler set of fingers, I unlocked the door to my apartment and allowed myself to get as settled as one could possibly settle when they were expecting company. Eren was the first person - besides Hanji - to come over for a lengthy visit. I felt lost. Should I have gotten changed? Taken a shower? Maybe a spritz of cologne would have been a nice touch.

Nice touch or not, it was too late for anything of the sort, because just as I'd turned toward the bedroom, I heard the rap of a fist against the front door, followed by a faint, yet confident, "Hey, it's me."

You know that feeling you get where your throat kind of just drops into the pit of your stomach, and the only way to pull it back up again is to swallow? That was me, and that was what I was feeling as I'd ventured over to the front door in order to let Eren in.

Unlocking the deadbolts and twisting the knob, I opened the door and peeked out to see who awaited me on the other side - well, obviously it was Eren, but put that kid in a different setting aside from the tattoo shop, and it was like coming face-to-face with a familiar stranger.

"Hey," he said softly, awkwardly shuffling his shoes until I invited him in.

I returned his gentle "hey" with an even softer "hi" and moved aside to allow him entry.

As Eren passed by me, I noticed that he had been holding something in his hand. I  _really_ noticed it when said thing brushed against my leg, leaving me with a chilling sensation running down my calve. I hadn't asked Eren to bring anything, so why had he? It always confused me when people went out of their way to satisfy others...says the person who went out of his way to pick up mint chocolate chip ice cream on his way home. Damn it.

As I closed the front door and followed Eren into the kitchen - I couldn't stress enough just how small my apartment was; two steps in and you were already in the kitchen - I asked him what was in the bag that he was holding. It was a plastic bag, so obviously it was something that he'd just picked up on his way over. And now that I'd taken a moment to get a better look at it, I'd noticed something awfully similar about it - it was the same type of bag that I'd been given at the very same drug store I'd gone to just under ten minutes ago.

"Oh," Eren said, sounding as if he'd forgotten that he was holding onto something. "It's ice cream."

"Oh, yeah? Which flavor?"

Fate may have been playing mind games with me for the better portion of this week, but as soon as Eren had peeled back the plastic of the bag to show me what was inside, we were once again on healthier terms. Thank goodness.

"It's black cherry," he confessed. "I got it because, uh...it kind of reminded me of our first date." And there it was. The answer I'd been looking for and the flustered visage I'd been dying to see.

This night was already off to a wonderful start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> And Happy Halloween! I know it's technically Saturday morning for most of you, but still! I hope you all had a fun holiday! If you guys did anything special to celebrate the day, I'd be interested to know what you did, because this is what I did! All day. This chapter. Yes. (:
> 
> It would seem that while Eren and Levi's relationship is growing stronger, Hanji and Mike's is falling apart. *cue The Circle of Life playing in the distance*
> 
> On a final note, can you believe that this fanfic has already reached its fifteenth chapter? I know I've been saying the same thing for a lot of the previous chapters, but we've made it to fifteen! That's a huge milestone! Thank you all for sticking with this fanfic for fifteen, consecutive weeks - and special thank you to those who have been here since week one! Thank you all so very much for your continued support. (:
> 
> And of course, with all of that being said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	16. Olive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blushes, bedsheets, and spoonfuls of ice cream.

Watching someone else not exactly explore the innards of your dwelling, but sheepishly scope it out, was like watching a low-linked animal investigating unchartered territory for the first time. My apartment may have been small, but Eren didn't seem any less intimidated by it. I could see it in his hands, as he fiddled with the plastic bag from the drug store, and I could see it in his face, as the upper row of his teeth mercilessly latched onto the already chapped skin of his lower lip. It was getting colder out. If he kept irritating his lips like that, he was going regret it.

I called him adorable.

I don't know why I did, it just sort of came out. And in actuality, I was referring to the both of us, not just him. In an attempt to ease some of his awkwardness - as lovely as it was to witness such a rare emotion out of him - I squeezed past him and rounded the corner island, making my way for the fridge. Pulling back the freezer door and taking out my own recent purchase, I slid it across the kitchen counter, still in its bag and everything, and instructed him to take a peek inside.

It was only a guess, but from the way in which Eren was visibly fighting back the urge to say something sarcastic, his ego seemed to have been bruised. He wasn't used to being called things like "cute" or "adorable"; not from me, at least. He probably couldn't tell if I was being serious or if I was trying to demean him, hence the adorable, sideways pout that puckered his lips.

Eren said, "You know, your text said that you wouldn't be giving me any extra food," as he slipped his hands into the plastic bag, reflexively retreating at the prick of cold that touched the tips of his fingers. "So, I don't know why you bought this."

He was right. My text message had said that, and I acknowledged it. "Yeah, I know." Leaning against one of the three barstools that lined the kitchen counter, I sighed and admitted, "I don't know why I bought it, either. I guess I must have had the same reason as you."

My statement probably didn't make any sense, until Eren picked up the carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream and set it next to his own pint of black cherry. I heard him breath and audible, "Huh," before scratching the back of his neck and turning his attention toward me. "You were thinking about it, too?"

"Yeah, but not in the same way as you were." I couldn't just say something like that and then leave him hanging by a string of perplexed presumptions, so propping myself up onto the stool that I'd been leaning against, I crossed my legs and rested my elbows back against the granite that shadowed me. Maybe if I seemed calm enough in the expression of my body language, Eren would loosen up, too.

"You referred to it as our 'first date', didn't you?" I just wanted to clarify that I hadn't heard him incorrectly. Otherwise, I would have made myself look like an idiot, and no one wanted that. Eren was the only idiot around here.

"...Yeah?" If I'd had supersonic hearing, I might have been able to hear the sound of Eren's throat dropping into the pit of his stomach. Obviously neither the sound nor the supersonic part of that were possible, so I'd have to settle for a very sudden look of uncertainty on Eren's face. "It...was a date, right?"

I shrugged. "I wasn't sure until just now. I'd been planning to ask you about it since Tuesday, but I figured I'd wait until I saw you in person, rather than asking you over a text." Now, it was  _my turn_ to shoot him a smirk. It was about time that kid got a healthy dose of his own damn medicine. "I wanted to see what kind of face you'd make, as we discussed the topic." I scoffed. "You didn't disappoint."

Flustered, antsy, and a bit frustrated, Eren rolled his eyes at my comment, making an off remark about how he was " _so sorry_ " that a harmless little trip to an " _ice cream parlor_ " had been misinterpreted as a " _date_ "; and yes, he was being very sarcastic. I used the leg that had been crossed over my knee to chide him lightly for his behavior, to which he swatted my foot away with the base of his hand.

"It's not nice to kick people," Eren scolded. He was trying to sound authoritative, but that was a suit that didn't quite fit him. He should just stick to his sarcastic remarks.

Honestly, I could have gone with the stereotypical comeback of, "Who said I was a nice person?" but I felt like Eren deserved a better response than that. Retracting my leg, I crossed it over my knee and folded my arms. The better response I'd been referring to wasn't actually a response at all; it was a change of subject.

"You brought your camera with you?" I'd been so focused on what was in Eren's hand, than I hadn't even realized what was around his neck. Strung like a necklace was his DSLR, tragically forgotten until I'd mentioned it.

"Oh! Yeah, this is just one of them," Eren said, as he looked down at his camera. He gave it a small pat of acknowledgment, before leaving it be. "I have two others at home: the one that I use for work, and the one that I use for recording movement. I told you that I was going to be at a study group, didn't I?"

I nodded, but the Hell if I knew what kind of study group involved photography. Just like I'd thought, it seemed like a lot of slacking off to me.

"Well, they never showed up. We'd planned to meet in the cafeteria so that we could all eat dinner or something before getting started, but they all had other plans, so I bailed, too."

"Okay?" That still didn't explain the camera. "What did you end up doing?"

"Well, I was planning on taking some more pictures for you to paint, but when I realized what time it was, I figured it would be best to just wait until my schedule was free. Still, I brought my camera up here anyway, because I thought it would be pretty neat, if you'd let me take some pictures of your place. You wouldn't be painting over them or anything like that; they'd be for my own, personal use."

Personal use, huh? That wasn't creepy. No, that wasn't creepy at all. Actually, the more I thought about it, it was a bit flattering? I say that in question, because I'm still not entirely sure myself, but simply knowing that Eren wanted to have pictures of my apartment for himself, for whatever reason that may be, it was kind of sweet...in a way?

Sliding off of the barstool and stretching out my arms and my legs, I motioned for him to do as he pleased. "I don't have any problems with it. I mean, it's kind of weird to ask someone's permission to take pictures of their apartment, but I don't mind it."

"Really?" I nodded. "Can I start taking pictures now, then?" I nodded again, this time migrating toward the two cartons of ice cream. If Eren was going to be preoccupied with his picture-taking, we'd save the cheesy throwback from our first date for later. God, what had gotten into me? Into  _us_? We were turning into one of those soap opera couples that I supposedly claimed to despise, oh, so much. Ugh.

As I was putting the mint chocolate chip and the black cherry ice cream into the freezer, I could hear the scuffs of Eren's feet shuffling around the den of my apartment. I should have asked him to take off his shoes before he came in, but that seemed hypocritical when I was still wearing mine. Maybe if I took mine off, he would do so, as well? I wasn't sure, and it seemed like too much of a bother to waste my worries on. I could always just mop up the floor after he left. That is...was he planning on leaving, or did he have it in his head that he would be staying the night? Crap, that was probably something we should have straightened out, before he came over.

If he had it in his head that he would be staying the night, wouldn't he have brought an overnight bag with him? You know, a change of clothes, a toothbrush, toothpaste - all that good stuff? Then again, this was Eren that we were talking about. He probably slept in the same clothes that he wore outside all day, only to strip them off and shower in the morning. But really, why was I wasting my time forming all of these theories and hypotheses, when I could just ask him about it myself.

"You know you're not staying overnight, right?" Smooth. Very smooth.

Eren, who had been fiddling with his focus, lifted his head and rose an eyebrow at me. "Yeah, I know that. Why? Did you think that I thought that I was?" His expression darkened suggestively. "Or it is, because you  _wanted_ me to stay the night? Honestly, Levi, what kind of guy do you think I am? Wait until at least the third or fourth date before you try that on me."

Over the course of knowing Eren for what, two, three, four months? Maybe it was three. Anyway, over the course of knowing him, I'd learned this helpful thing that I liked to call "the reversal effect". See, whenever Eren said something snarky, something that he believed would give him the upper hand, I would simply counter it with a response that he more than likely wasn't prepared to hear. For example:

"I guess you're right. It would be better to wait another date or two, before asking you to stay overnight."

It was a good thing that Eren's camera was attached to the holder fastened around his neck, otherwise, he might have dropped it. "Wait, are you being serious? You seriously wanted me to...?"

So, this is what it felt like to be smug, huh? I was starting to see why Eren liked acting this way. I had to admit, it felt pretty good.

"I don't know," I answered indecisively. "Maybe I was being serious, maybe I wasn't. That's for you to decide."

The mind is a heavy burden, because it was shaped by the thoughts we possess. Watching Eren's eyes flicker before looking off to the side, ultimately finding solace in surveying his lap, caused my brain to do this funny thing that some people like to refer to as an imagination. Suddenly, we weren't in the den, and Eren wasn't fiddling with his camera's focus. We were in my bedroom. The hour was later than it currently was, and blankets were wrapped around our bodies like they had become a part of us. We were cuddling, but in an unorthodox manner. His hand was on my thigh, and my hands were combing through his hair, pulling it back until there was nothing left to pull. And then I would repeat. And repeat. And repeat, his hand remaining firmly clasped against my leg.

And that is why the mind is a heavy burden. Because it allows you to think about things in grand, cinematic detail, to the point where you find yourself lusting after the notions in your head. Nothing about my thought, a thought that had lasted no more than five seconds, had been sexual. It was entirely based on the idea of being close with Eren. Knowing him for not only his mind, but also his body. And the same could have been said for him. In the brevity of it all, we seemed to know each other more than we knew ourselves. There was a comfort, a vulnerability, and I wanted nothing more than for that to become a reality.

I hadn't been serious about Eren staying at my place for the night. That is, I hadn't been serious about it, until my mind took over and strangled me with its own thoughts,  _my_  thoughts. Now, all I could think about was just how badly I wanted to feel his chest pressed against mine. Our arms and legs limp with fatigue, while our eyelids found it harder and harder to stay open with each and every blink. I wanted to fall asleep with his body laying next to mine, but I'd never let him know that. No, not until our third or fourth date.

Shaking his head to expel whatever was going on inside of it, Eren finally finished focusing his camera. Unexpectedly, he aimed the lens at me and hit the capture button. Blurring my sights in a sea of white light, I furiously rubbed my eyes to clear away the spots that speckled my vision, all the while Eren chuckled pridefully to himself.

"The Hell was that for?" I grumbled, still rubbing my eyes.

"Payback," Eren stated, shutting off his camera's flash. "It was payback for being rude to your guest."

Payback for being rude to him, huh? If that's how it was going to be, then two could play at that game. "Guests are supposed to be well-mannered and hospitable. You've been neither of those things since you've shown up." I pointed directly at his shoes. "A guest would have taken off their shoes the moment they entered through the front door."

Waving off my comments like the sound of my voice was mere background noise, Eren muttered, "Yeah, yeah. I brought ice cream with me, didn't I? That was a very hospitable thing for me to do."

Bringing the viewfinder up to his eye, Eren clasped his fingers delicately around the lens of his camera and snapped his first, official picture of my apartment: a picture of the floor. How fascinating. Just as I was about to ask him why the floor was so important that it needed to be photographed, he moved his camera away from his face, and asked, "Why is there purple paint on the floorboards right here?"

Ah, so that's why. Funny he would ask that, seeing as the answer lied within his original purpose for coming over. It seemed like now was a better time than any for Eren to acquaint himself with my somewhat disturbing hobby.

"It's hard to explain something like that, without showing you what it resulted in."

Letting his camera rest against his midriff, Eren tilted his head at my remark. "What do you mean by that, Levi?"

"What I _mean_  is that I need to show you something." I gestured for him to follow me with a flick of my wrist. "Come over here."

It was no secret that my apartment was small. One step in, and you were practically in the kitchen. One step further, and you were in the den. Take a step to your right, and would you look at that? You're in my studio.

I hadn't mentioned it to Eren, but the night before his arrival, I'd masked all of my painted canvases with thin, olive-colored bedsheets that I used on my bed in the summer months. Their darkened hue concealed most, if not all, of the striking features of my paintings, leaving Eren in the dark (literally) until the big reveal.

"These are the paintings I was telling you about, over the phone. These are four of them."

I felt like a tour guide; however, instead of having Eren take a trip around a museum, he was taking a trip into my soul. Lovely. Well, here goes nothing.

I'd reached for the edge of one of the bedsheets and began giving it a pull, when Eren quickly sprung into action and covered the painting back up again. Um, what the Hell?

"Just wait a minute," Eren breathed, or rather, he seemed out of breath? Apparently, lunging forward was enough physical activity for him for the day. "I want to ask you something first."

Sighing, I dropped my hold on the sheet and folded my arms. If Eren had wanted to ask me something, he could have asked me in the one step that it took to get over to the studio from the den, but no. He just  _had_ to wait until I was about to show him some of my best works of art. Talk about bad timing.

"What is it, Eren?" I asked, trying to sound as interested as possible. Although, it was kind of difficult to sound interested, when your tone was laced with irritation.

When he began to fidget, I felt like closing my eyes. If only there had been a reset button on life, and I could go back five, ten seconds to when I had been just about ready to pull back the bedsheet. If I'd done it quick enough, I wouldn't have given Eren enough time to stop me. Likewise, he wouldn't have had enough time to ask me his question, and furthermore, I wouldn't be standing with my arms crossed over my chest, waiting for him to spit out his question.

After a considerable amount of neck scratching and shirt pulling, Eren looked over at me. What was intriguing to me about his expression was that, although he wasn't blushing entirely, the bridge of his nose was a bit more rosy than the rest of his features. What would you even call that? A half-blush? A nose blush? Well, whatever it was, it was pretty damn cute.

Finally, after struggling with his words, Eren managed to say, "I know you kind of hinted at it through your text messages, but I was just wondering if it was really true..." He paused, before continuing. "Were these paintings really all inspired...by me?"

If Eren would have kept his mouth shut, he would have already had his answer. And so, to prove that point, I grabbed a hold of the bedsheets - all of them - and threw them at Eren. Just as he'd caught me off my guard with his camera's flash, I'd managed to shock him with an array of olive bed laundry.

Gasping upon the impact, Eren stumbled backward slightly, before he began clawing at his face in an attempt to get the sheets off of him. I could hear him muttering things like "what the Hell," and "I can't see a damn thing," before successfully scrapping the sheets away from his face. And when he did, not a single word was to be uttered. Only silence. Pure, unadulterated silence as the original masterpiece stared face-to-face with his less-than-perfect replications.

But silence wasn't in Eren's nature; not for long, at least. A good minute or two after the bedsheets had come flying off, and Eren's amber eyes had had enough time to survey his surroundings. He let out a breathy sigh, followed by only a single word. "Wow."

Wow, indeed. And "wow" was just the type of situation Eren was in. There was no doubt in my mind that he was feeling it - the conflict of whether he should compliment the handiwork, or if he should simply stay quiet. These paintings were all inspired by him, after all. If you think about it long and hard enough, anyone would feel odd praising something that was intended to mirror themselves. Did it come across as narcissistic, or did it come off as polite? Well, that was for no one in particular to decide, and that's what made it so tricky.

I watched Eren closely, as his eyes swept back and forth, from canvas to canvas. First the painting of his eyes, then the outlines of black. The visage of lust, the shape of his tongue - they were all constructed in a fit of suppressed creativity, creativity in desperate need of an outlet.

While Eren continued to wordlessly marvel at the paintings, I noticed that his breathing had slowed down and his eyelids had become hooded. Did looking at my work make him sleepy, or something? No, wait. That wasn't it. Eren wasn't sleepy, he was...

"Levi..."

I knew that voice. I knew it, because I'd heard it before. Maybe not from Eren in particular, but I'd heard my name spoken in that exact tone before, so I knew exactly what it meant.

It didn't help that Eren's half-blush nose thing was starting bloom in other places, as well. I kind of felt bad for him, to be honest. The poor kid looked so conflicted with himself that he just stood there, looking at me as if I needed to take responsibility for my actions.

Then again, Eren wasn't just an idle observer; he was a doer. When he wanted something, he was bound to get it, and by any means necessary. Coincidentally, our relationship - or the start of it, at least - was the perfect example of that. He'd wanted me to remove his tattoo, I said no, but he persevered; and that was exactly what he did just moments after erotically uttering my name.

His movements were slow, much slower than they had been when he'd reached out to keep the bedsheets right where they were. I'd forgotten to mention that there was still another painting that he needed to see, the one where I'd painted him sleeping next to his cell phone. It was my most recent masterpiece, and I had to say, aside from the first painting that had spurred this uncontrollable, chain-reaction of masterpieces, it was my favourite one yet. And truthfully, it was a first of its own.

It was the first time I'd painted Eren since we'd official become a "thing".

Just seconds after I'd come to that realization, I felt the presence of fingers dusting along the edge of my face. My eyelids were almost coaxed into closing, but I knew better than to allow them to do that. I wanted to see Eren's face as it drew nearer, to watch his already heavy eyes grow heavier with desire. He wanted to kiss me, I could tell. But instead of going straight in for the kill, he closed his eyes and bumped his forehead against mine.

We stayed like that for a while. For how long? I wasn't completely sure; I didn't bother to count the minutes. We were simply and silently enjoying each other's company, and it was almost strange, in a way. Eren and I had done things a lot more stimulating than a tender touch to the forehead, but for whatever reason, it was that innocent act of affection that caused my heart to nearly burst out of my chest. Damn it. There was only one, reasonable explanation behind my incessant heart palpitations, and that singular reason was because of an even more singular emotion: love.

Now, hold on. Before certain things start getting misconstrued, allow me to explain. What I was experiencing was  _a love for_  Eren - that wasn't the same as being  _in love_  with him. Yes? Good? Okay, moving on.

In the heat of our heavy breaths, our lips had unconsciously found each others. Like clockwork, they began to mix and mold into one another, creating a masterpiece all their own. Kissing is actually pretty gross, if you pick it apart and analyze it for what it's worth. Just two people pressing their lips together and swapping saliva. How inviting. But with Eren, it wasn't like that. With Eren, it was  _different_. A good kind of different. The kind of different that had us craving for more.

Needless to say, our kiss didn't remain simple and sweet for long.

Before we knew it, Eren and I were on the floor, our bodies tangled up in the mess of bedsheets and loose clothing. We weren't undressing each other, per say, but our restless reflexes had us grabbing at one another in places where buttons were vulnerable and zippers just so happened to find themselves being unzipped. I don't think there's a specific word to describe what we were doing exactly, but all that mattered was that it felt crazy good.

And it was in the midst of that crazy goodness that I'd had an epiphany.

The young man that I was kissing, this was Eren. Yeah, this was definitely him. The  _true_ Eren. The Eren that desired to be desired and loved and nothing else. The Eren that strolled into my shop when Hanji was around - or anyone else, for that matter - that  _wasn't_ him. That Eren was a mere facade, a mask that he must have fabricated some time after his fragile heart had been shattered into pieces. I would have felt apologetic for the kid (having to hide his heart day in and day out must have been exhausting), but the truth of the matter was that I  _wasn't_  sorry. And why should I be? Sure, Eren had shown me his mask a countless number of times beforehand, but that wasn't the point here. The point was that, just as well, Eren had also  _removed_ his mask for me, allowing me into his world and into his heart, trustingly showing me his one and only  _true_  self.

I honestly don't remember how long we'd spent kissing each other. It could have been hours, or it could have been minutes; who knows? One thing was for sure, though, and that was that around the nine o' clock hour, we broke out two spoons and dug into our respective cartons of ice cream: mint chocolate chip for Eren and black cherry for me. It was nostalgic, it was delicious, and when all was said and done, I'm pretty sure we started kissing again. On the sofa this time, though.

And you know what? It was amazing. Our second date was freaking  _amazing_. So screw the third or fourth date. After an evening like that, it would have been weird of him  _not_ to.

Eren stayed the night that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> Here we have it, a chapter where Eren and Levi are truly testing out the waters of their relationship. They're both showing sides of themselves that they don't normally show to the outside world, which really highlights their growing trust in one another. (:
> 
> I really wish that I had more to say about this chapter, but honestly, I prefer to hear what you guys have the think! Feedback is never looked down upon; it is always, always encouraged!
> 
> So, with that being said, I sincerely hope that you enjoyed this chapter, because I know that it was an absolute blast for me to write!
> 
> And of course, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	17. Apricot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warm, cramped, and just a bit uncomfortable.

It could have been Eren, or it could have been me; I couldn't remember. All I knew was that when he and I awoke the next morning, those very bedsheets that had been masking my masterpieces were wrapped around our bodies, which were subsequently wrapped around each other. If I could describe what I was feeling in one word, I would describe it as warm. If I could describe it in two, I would describe it as warm and cramped. And if I could describe it in three, three words that accurately portrayed my current feelings, I would describe it as warm, cramped, and a bit uncomfortable.

Eren and I slept together last night.

Allow me to repeat that: we  _slept_ together. Sleep. It's a verb, not a phrase. We didn't have sex, and to be honest, we didn't even fool around much, either. The opportunity was there, but we weren't. We weren't ready. Maybe I was the one who made that clear, when I'd stopped Eren's hand, or maybe he was the one who made it crystal, when he had stopped mine. It could have been Eren, or it could have been me; I couldn't remember.

What I could remember was how far we'd taken things. And truth be told, the most action we got was when we had been toying with each other's clothes, pulling at the fabrics that easily came loose beneath our touch.

We'd kissed plenty. Soft and sensitive at first, then rough and rowdy. Something that I'd noticed, and I'm sure Eren noticed it, too, was that our kisses had a specific peak to them. Our passionate lips would reach a point so ecstatic that we needed a cool-down period. That's when the softness returned.

It could have been Eren, or it could have been me; I couldn't remember. I couldn't remember it, but one of us had to have fallen asleep first; there was no way around it. We weren't like robots. We weren't programmed to perfection, with the ability to match our psyches. We were human. Humans with flaws and weaknesses, and I was swiftly reminded of that, as a memory from last night resurfaced.

It was Eren. Eren had fallen asleep first.

After kissing each other until our lips felt numb, Eren, who had been seated in my lap at the time, fell to my chest and sighed breathlessly. He was starting to get tired - we both were - I'd been able to determine that notion before he'd even stopped. Our kisses weren't as vivacious as they'd been when the night began; and they definitely weren't as exciting as they were after we'd had a couple spoonfuls of ice cream in our stomachs. They hadn't become any less pleasant, although I'd be lying if I said that they hadn't become a bit dull.

Eren had murmured something against my chest, but seeing as his words had been horribly muffled by the bunches in the texture of my shirt, I couldn't make sense of what he'd said. (Yes, surprisingly enough, my shirt had survived our frisky fingers and had remained on my body.) When I asked him to repeat himself, I could see that he was already fading - eyes fluttering, mouth growing slack. His body was fighting and losing its battle against fatigue, and damn it, it was freaking adorable.

Eren was still a kid, I could never forget that; however, there were times when his smug remarks and his cocky expressions fooled me into disremembering. Actually, no, it wasn't that entirely. Eren was always a kid, no matter what he did - what changed was the  _type_ of kid he was. When he was being his usual self, spouting off some nonsense or flirting with his authority, he was a brat. A sweet and simple (and not the good kind of sweet - the cavity-inducing kind of sweet) brat. But when he was like  _this_ , clinging for comfort as his head nestled affectionately beneath my chin, he wasn't a brat anymore. He was innocence.

In my eyes, innocence isn't defined by how much you know or how much you've experienced. That's wisdom, and when people lack wisdom, they are ignorant. So where does innocence fall? Innocence is a vulnerability, just as much as it is a strength. You are faultless, flawless, and no matter the crimes you've committed or the burdens you've been forced to face, as you lay there, with your eyelids shut and your breathing steady, the world forgets who you are, who you've wronged, or who you've been wronged by. In that moment, you are peaceful, you are asleep, and you are innocent.

Now that I was able to recall, I remembered stroking Eren's hair as he slept. It wasn't the texture I imagined it to be. His hair was visibly thick and rough around the edges that I'd pictured it to feel coarse, possibly even stiff, but it was surprisingly soft.

Feeling adventurous, I even dared to give it a whiff. I mean, how could I not? His head was right under my chin. That's when another surprise wafted through my nose. Lemons. Not the scent I would have excepted someone's head to smell like, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He reminded me of a cleaning product, a gentler, less-chemically version of a cleaning product that people would use to scrub their floors, or something.

That's where my memories begin to haze. I remembered our last kiss, I remembered Eren falling asleep on top of my chest, and I remembered waking up with him the next morning, but what happened in between? How did those bedsheets end up on top of us, and how long had we been asleep for.

I stopped worrying about those things, when Eren began to stir.

Making a pathetic sound that wasn't quite a yawn, and not quite anything else, either, Eren's limbs started to stretch against mine, making the cramped space between us just that much more inconvenient. Still blissfully unaware of his surroundings, Eren subconsciously nuzzled up to me as if I were his pillow. Unfortunately, I must not have been soft enough for him, because one minute, he was all snuggly with me, and the next, he had punched me directly into my ribcage in order to "fluff me up".

Not only had the sound of my cursing voice scared him, but for a second - at least one second - I'm pretty sure Eren had honestly believed that his pillow had started talking to him.

Jumping back at a velocity that was much too rapid for him to keep up with, he would have fallen over in a chaotic mess if I hadn't grabbed a hold of him and pinned him back to my chest.

"Good morning to you, too," I said, slathering the statement with sarcasm.

Was it cruel to make Eren think too hard in the morning? Yeah, probably, but the kid should have at least remembered the fact that he'd stayed the night at my apartment last night. The other details, I could forgive; those tended to get lost in the memory archives rather easily. The big picture, though? That was a bit problematic. It almost felt pointless explaining it to him.

"You stayed here so late last night that you ended up falling asleep. Don't you remember?" And of course, Eren should have remembered. It wasn't like he was drunk when it happened. We were both completely sober; the only thing we could possibly get drunk off of was each other's sugar-induced love. And besides, if I wasn't the one who had draped the blankets over the both of us, then it had to have been him. Wouldn't he have made the connection of where he was back then, or was he really just that much of an idiot?

Combing his fingers through his fringe in an attempt to mentally retrace his steps and ultimately make sense of what was going on, Eren shook his head at first. "No, I don't...wait." Ah, so it was finally coming back to him? Good. Less work for me. "We were like, making out and stuff..." Yeah. No kidding. "Oh, my God. Oh...oh, my  _God_. Did I seriously fall asleep on top of you like this?"

"Were you seriously the one who wrapped the bedsheets around us like this?" I wanted him to answer my question, before I answered his. It still baffled me how someone could be so disconnected from their surroundings that he hadn't even noticed our position, or the sheets, until they were mentioned. Even the vaults to our memory archives weren't  _that_ deep; what Eren was expressing was just another one of his moments of pure idiocracy.

"I mean, I must have, but I can't seem to remember..." Huffing in irritation, Eren rubbed at his neck and lifted his head just enough to begin looking around, as if the answers were waiting for him on the walls. "I'm not good at thinking like this in the morning. Ask me again after I've been awake for thirty-plus minutes and have some caffeine in me."

"You drink coffee?" I asked him. Nonchalantly, of course. Eren was a college student. I wouldn't have been shocked if coffee was the only thing keeping him conscious during the day.

Eren laughed and let his hand fall lazily from his neck, before he admitted, "Coffee, energy drinks, soda; you name it, I probably consume it."

"What about tea?" The only reason I'd asked, was because tea was all I had. All of my coffee purchases were made down at the coffee shop that I drove by on my way to work, and I personally didn't have a taste for neither soda, nor energy drinks.

"Tea's alright, but it doesn't seem to do me any good. All it does is make me wanna take a nap, which isn't exactly the effect I'm going for, when I need my caffeine fix."

"Understandable." Well, it looked like Eren was out of luck, then. Oh well.

Pulling at the bedsheets that hung on his shoulders like curtains, Eren began looking around again. If it was the silence that was making him uncomfortable, he should have just came out and said it. But no, that wasn't it. Something else was on his mind.

"What time is it?"

Oh. That was actually a pretty good question. You know, for once.

I wasn't the type of person who wore wristwatches, and I didn't own any wall clocks, either. The only way for me to tell what time it was was if I looked at my phone. But with Eren on top of me and with my cell phone in my back pocket, retrieving it wasn't exactly going to be an easy task.

I looked out the window instead.

My head was very limited in the movements it could make, seeing as Eren and I were still laying around like limp noodles on the floorboards beneath us, but I'd managed to get a good glimpse of just how bright it was outside. Or rather, just how bright it  _wasn't_.

The sun was just barely making a break over the horizon, meaning that it had to have been somewhere around 6:30, maybe 7AM. Realizing that caused me to experience what some might refer to as a deflating feeling, one that mostly ruminated low in the abdominal region. It was a new day, and the day was just about ready to get started. That meant work would follow and Eren would not.

Eren must have caught wind of the time, without even needing it spoken through words. He'd lifted his head just enough to mirror my motions, looking out the studio window for himself. "It's barely morning."

Yeah, for him, maybe, but for me, the morning had already begun. In fact, if I wanted to be frank, I was actually  _behind_ schedule.

Seeing as Fridays were usually the days when Hanji and I closed up the shop early, we tried our best to arrive earlier on Saturdays to make up for lost time. We still kept the doors closed to customers until our regular hours, but it was always nice to get an early start reorganizing the equipment and paperwork from what has usually surmounted from the disaster of the day prior.

"I have to get ready for work." Saying that left a sour taste in my mouth, not only because of the way it sounded on my lips, but because of the reaction I had received from Eren after saying it.

"...Do you really?"

I had never heard Eren sound so dejected. It was like I'd just told him that his pet fish had died, or something.

Propping himself up just enough so that we could meet each other eye-to-eye, Eren asked me that pitiful question one more time. "Do you really have to go to work today?"

Hearing him say that made me wonder if Eren had had it in his head that he and I would spend the day together. It was Saturday, so obviously he didn't have any classes, but I was more of an adult than he was. I had bigger responsibilities than he did. Hell, I had an entire business to run.

"Hanji would be helpless without me," I sighed. If only that were a joke, but it wasn't. I would never forget the time when I'd been sick enough to call out of work for one day -  _just one day_ \- and I got a call later that same afternoon that she'd nearly caused a fire in the back room because of that stupid, no-good coffee pot. Honestly, I don't know why we didn't get rid of that thing, after that incident.

And so, the bottom line was that I  _had_ to go to work, even if I didn't want to.

Rustling with the bedsheets, Eren shifted his weight so that he was laying next to me rather than on top of me. Ah, the sweet circulation that coursed throughout my body after he did that. It was almost heavenly, really. "I'm sure Hanji can manage the shop just fine without you there. I mean, you technically own the place, but didn't you say something about how you divide the work equally? Like, you're technically her boss, but you'd never treat her like she was lesser of a person than you?"

Damn, that kid had a good memory. Well, when he  _wanted_  to have a good memory, at least. But it wasn't just that, either. Eren was doing something that I hadn't picked up on until he'd opened his mouth that third time.

He was trying to make me stay.

While hearing him think up excuses to get me off of work was rather sweet, endearing even, sadly, it wasn't going to work. What kind of shop owner would I be if I played hooky for the sake of spending a day lazing around on the floor of my apartment with Eren? It wouldn't make me the good kind of shop owner, I'll tell you that.

With a heavy sigh, I heaved my body onto its side in order to face Eren again. I don't know what our current conversation had done to our aesthetic, but it really began to show our years - and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Eren was young and he was falling in love again. I was old and I was falling in love for the first time. Not only was it scary, it was also horribly pleasant. We were taking our time getting to know each other, just like we should, learning the things about ourselves that made us human. That was something I'd never done before, not with another person. And honestly, with someone like Jean in his life, I don't think Eren had the opportunity to such a notion, either.

"Tell you what," I said, already formulating a compromise. "After your session on Tuesday, I can take you somewhere. That, or we can come back here. It'll be up to you. Sound fair?"

It sounded like the perfect plan to me, but of course, Eren had to think about it. Knowing him, he was probably onboard with the idea, but he just wanted to make me wait for an answer. Typical.

Curling into the bedsheets, practically claiming all of them for himself, Eren craftily murmured, "You know what? I have an even  _better_ idea."

If he was going to suggest that I just stay here with him instead, we were going to have a problem. "What?"

"Instead of  _you_ taking  _me_ somewhere, how about  _I_ take  _you_ somewhere?"

It could have been the way he'd emphasized his words, or it could have been the words themselves, but for whatever reason it may have been, I really liked the sound of what Eren had said. It felt like there was an air of mystery to what he had in mind, and even though I was curious to know what sort of ideas were swimming around in that head of his, I knew better than to ask.

"Fine." I flicked him in the nose, watching in amusement as he recoiled pathetically. "It's a deal. You can take me wherever you want. And so, that means for today..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Eren groaned, rubbing his nose through a fistful of a sheet. "You have to go to work."

I ruffled his hair as praise for compliance. He'd soon come to learn that listening to others and obeying their wishes would get him a lot farther in life than being a brat ever would. And you know, I think he was already starting to grasp that concept, albeit gradually.

Reaching forward, I fed my fingers through Eren's fringe and pushed it back. "That's right," I whispered, letting the two words, the two syllables, tickle his forehead before kissing it. "But I'll be thinking about you the entire time I'm there." What could I say to that, really? Eren was turning me into a romantic. Plain and simple

Sitting up before I stood, I allowed Eren to suffocate himself underneath the sheets, as he formed a formidable cocoon. What he was trying to do, I wasn't really certain. Maybe he was trying to somehow ward off the embarrassment that my sappy statement had left him with. If that was the case, he just might've ended up being in cocoon all day long.

While Eren wallowed about, I walked off to take a shower. Before I left, I made sure to let him know that he was free to eat anything that was in the fridge - although, I warned him that he probably wouldn't find much in there, anyway. I also told him that he was free to take more pictures, if he'd like. He'd only managed to snap two photos before things started getting heated, and to be fair, one of those photos wasn't even of the apartment - it was of me.

I took Eren's little wiggle from beneath the sheets as a nod of acknowledgement, and headed off to the bathroom. "Headed" was a term that I used very loosely, when it came to my apartment. If anything, it was more like a handful of steps, really.

In the bathroom, I stripped myself of my clothes. They dropped to the tiles that traced my bare feet, and as I reached over the bathtub's ledge to turn on the water to the shower, a rather lewd thought came to mind. I tried to shove it away, I really did, but like I'd mentioned earlier, the vaults to our memory archives weren't that deep - the same goes for our thought archives, as well.

Bending ever so slightly at the knee, I reached for my shirt. Picking it up with one hand, I grasped it with two, and after that, I shamefully brought the article of clothing to my nose and hesitantly gave it a sniff.

Exactly as I expected, my shirt smelled of lemons. Damn it.

I let my shirt fall back to the floor, as I stepped into the shower and ripped the curtain back upon my entry. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I cursed and shuddered. In my haste to get into the shower, I'd neglected to foresee that the water hadn't had enough time to fully warm up yet.

Soon enough, however, warmth graciously encompassed me, just like the bedsheets and the body I'd awoken to. It's funny how that fantasy of mine had become a reality in more ways than one. The obvious was that we'd slept together, but there were the little things, too. I'd played with Eren's hair, and although it hadn't felt the same as I'd imagined, it was still just as enjoyable. And even though Eren hadn't officially been grabbing a hold of my thigh like he had been in my thought, feeling his legs tangled with mine was more than enough to wake up to.

As the warm water trickled down my arms and legs, I began scrubbing my inked skin with soap and moisturizer. The winter months were coming, and everyone and anyone who had at least one tattoo on their body feared the enemy of dry skin. Having a few flakes of deadened epidermis wasn't going to destroy the design, but it wasn't going to do it any favors, either. And for someone like me, someone who had a generous amount of tattoos all over their body, a generous amount of moisturizer was a must.

Running my fingers along each of the twists and sharp twirls made me miss the perpetual prick of a tattoo needle against my skin. It had been a while since I'd gotten my most recent tattoo - three years, at least. Maybe another tattoo was in my future. My only problem, as is the problem of many, was that I wouldn't know what to get a tattoo of. Everything that was significant in my life was already permanently painted onto my body. Everything...but Eren.

No. No, no. No. Just no.

Rule number one of relationships: don't ever get a tattoo in dedication to someone you love unless you've known each other for more than a year. Rule number two of relationships: disregard rule number one. Never get a tattoo in dedication of someone you love  _ever_. Unless they're family or unless they're deceased, just don't do it. Don't. Period. End of story.

Just the fact alone that a thought like that had even crossed my mind made me want to bang my head against the shower wall. Seriously, what the Hell had gotten into me? Where were my morals? My standards? Every wall that I'd slowly nurtured into construction, they were all coming down, and it was all because of that stupid kid.

And the worst part of it all was that I didn't hate him for it. Instead of hoarding bitter feelings toward all of my hard-earned efforts falling to ruin, I was filled with...relief.

I guess that's what falling in love really feels like. It's not just butterflies and heavy heart palpitations, it's relief. It's  _freedom_. Freedom from the chains that bind us, and freedom from the loneliness we've been subjected to.

Falling in love was freedom. Falling in love was Eren.

Eren was my freedom.

 

* * *

 

After stepping out of the shower and tossing my dirty clothes into the hamper (although, could I rightfully call them dirty? They smelled like freaking lemons, for God's sake), I checked my phone and got dressed for work. After smelling Eren's head - probably not the best way to phrase that, but whatever - I guess you could say I was feeling fruity. Pulling on my one and only apricot-toned sweater, along with a pair a denim jeans, I checked my phone again, this time for, well, the time.

"7:34..." I announced to no one but myself. Looks like I was going to be late to work after all. Oh well. I finished gathering up my things and left the bedroom.

I hadn't been expecting it - no one ever truly expects these kinds of things - but holy Hell, the sight that I had seen had stripped me of my ability to breathe.

Anyone else, anyone other than myself - a regular person, if you will - may not have had the same, intense reaction that I had, but that was because I was different. I was an artist. And what I saw before me wasn't just a person. What I saw before me was a  _masterpiece_.

That masterpiece was Eren.

As he stood there, in the center of my studio, clutching at the bedsheets that had comforted us and holding them around his body like a safety, I stared in disbelief as the sunrise spilled in through the window, surrounding him in all of its splendor, surrounding him like a lover.

He'd been admiring the canvases again - I could tell - and I don't say that with the slightest ounce of pride; I said it with all of the aspects of precision, because as he turned around at the subtle sound of my footsteps, the bedsheets beckoning to his voiceless command and twirling with him, I could see it in his eyes. His sweet, soft, sunrise eyes. I could see the admiration. I could see the perfection. I could see the  _love_.

"When the sun is shining on your paintings like this, it really brings out their beauty, doesn't it?"

He was wrong. He was so entirely wrong that he was  _right_.

While the natural lighting did justice to the colors on the canvases, they weren't what my eyes were drawn to. No, my eyes were drawn to the golden undertones within Eren's hair that I hadn't previously known existed. They were drawn to the dark shadows that stretched along the floorboards, shadows that were created by bedsheets and a body. But most of all, my eyes were drawn to  _his_  eyes, his soft, sweet, sunrise eyes, because even though he was squinting ever, so slightly as if to shy away from the brightness, he was no less of a spectacle.

After being graced with such a sight, leaving for work seemed like much more of a chore than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> Writing this chapter made me feel so lazy, ahhh! I wonder if it had the same effect on all of you! Didn't it just make you want to lay on the floor and take a nap? (:
> 
> Haha, anyways! Without going off on too much of a tangent, I promise that the next chapter will have a bit more content to it than this chapter did! No more laziness! Levi and Eren gotta get out there and become productive members of society! ...But maybe after another nap, first. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I certainly enjoyed writing for it!
> 
> And as always, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
>  
> 
> \-- Chappy


	18. Burgundy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven unread messages and three missed calls.

Remember how when you were in Kindergarten, maybe even first or second grade, you would get stickers for doing good things? Those stickers might have been retro smiley faces or cheap, golden stars, but they were special nonetheless. Any kid who got a sticker for doing a good job on their test or for cleaning up after themselves would wear that tiny piece of sticky paper with pride. It may have been the budding beginnings of narcissism, but hey, when you were a kid, you wanted to be recognized for your hard work.

Screw being a kid. I wanted fifty damn stickers for pulling myself together and heading off to work that morning.

Eren was a tempter by nature, but on that morning, with those bedsheets hung loosely around his shoulders and the sunlight still beaming simply over his head, he was a victim. A victim of tranquility, and a victim of beauty. He was blissfully unaware of just how magnificent he appeared, and although I had no qualms against informing him of his beauty, the clock was ticking. Well, metaphorically, at least.

When Eren had asked me if I was leaving for work, I nodded and stalked over to the shoe rack to pick out my footwear for the day. I'd picked up on the hint of remorse in his voice, but did my very best to push the sound far back into those crevices of my mind. The last thing I needed was another excuse to call into work that morning.

While I laced my shoes, I curiously observed Eren from the corner of my eye. He'd begun folding the bedsheets, later casting them over the side of the kitchen counter. That obviously wasn't where they belonged, but at least he'd made the effort to fold them nicely - and I use the word "nicely" very loosely. Oh, well. He got a golden star for his good deed, in my book.

Even though we'd never really made the verbal agreement or announcement that it was time to say our goodbyes, we both just sort of  _knew_. Me leaving for work equaled Eren having to leave, as well. I mean, he could have stayed at my place for the entire day if he  _really_ wanted to, but I was sure that he had much better things to do with his time, so I didn't even bother to make the offer.

After getting my shoes on and grabbing for my keys, I'd been oblivious of Eren's whereabouts for long enough that I'd neglected to notice that he was already on my heels. And in a tender moment of silence, one where words would have only spoiled the sanctity, Eren wrapped his arms around me from behind, embracing me in his warmth and suffocating me within his splendor. For someone like Eren, who simply loved to hear himself talk, it was almost more meaningful to receive a wordless "thank you" from him. And in lifting my hands to gently acknowledge his gratitude, I, too, mutedly thanked him for one of the best evenings I'd had in a long time.

We officially parted ways in the parking lot, and this time, a few, offhanded words came into play. Eren reassured me that he would stop by the shop on Tuesday for his appointment, and I playfully suggested that he bring a pillow with him this time. I'd heard him scoff at my joke, as he dipped his head and got into his car. Shooting me a single wave, he drove off first, before I fit the keys into my ignition and started up the engine.

There was no time to make a quick run to the coffee shop, but that didn't stop me from doing it anyway. And honestly, if I hadn't made it blatantly,crystal clear before, Petra was an angel in disguise; I would never let her kindness go unnoticed (one-hundred golden stars, that's what she deserved). Having my coffee already prepared and waiting on the front counter, I handed her my credit card and was on my merry way within a minute flat, just enough time to thank her and wish her well for the rest of her day.

By the time I pulled into the lot of the tattoo shop, Hanji was already there. Without much effort, I got myself situated and parked my car. I could see her through the glass windows, bustling around like usual, probably straightening up a few odds and ends here and there. When she saw me getting out of my car, she offered me a friendly wave, to which I returned with a curt nod and a sip of my coffee.

And so our day began.

It started off by helping Hanji rearrange the ink shelves and the equipment. Instead of having the inks range in colors from lightest to darkest, we decided it was time to make the switch and have them span from darkest to lightest. Whether we liked it or not, the winter months were swiftly approaching, and during the many years that Hanji and I had been working in the business of tattoo artistry, we had come to the conclusion that people are more likely to get tattoos that require darker, denser ink in the winter, whereas they are more opt to gravitate towards lighter, softer colors in the summer.

By the time we'd finished working on the ink shelves, it was already noon. Without much time to worry about our lunch break, Hanji and I began tending to our scheduled clients, one of those clients being Eren's very own roommate, Reiner.

Today was the day he'd scheduled to have the outline of his tattoo sketched into his skull, and while he was a good sport about it for the most part, I could still sense an air of lingering resentment. He obviously must have known that Eren had had plans to come over to my apartment last night, but it was a surprise to the both of us when he ended up staying over rather than heading back to his place. That had me wondering whether the grit in Reiner's teeth was from the pain, or from the thought of Eren and I spending the night together. And you know what? That was fine. He could imagine whatever dirty fantasies he wanted to, but the fact of the matter was that our relationship was none of his business, and whether or not Eren felt comfortable sharing the details of our date with him, he wouldn't be hearing a single word about last night from me.

As the hours started winding down, and our clients came and went, Hanji and I scrapped every second that we could manage to clear out the back room. Over the course of a few months, all kinds of clutter began to build back there. From loose-leaf sketches, to empty ink containers, nine-five percent of the mess was Hanji's doing, but as the signed owner of the shop, I felt as if it were my civic duty to aid her with such a catastrophe. And by aid, I mean that I held the garbage can, while she threw everything into it.

All in all, our day had felt like a laundry list of events, and during the last minutes of our dinner hour, Eren had texted me a picture of a the movie theater that was just a few blocks down with the question,  _"_ _ **Wanna come with?**_ _"_

In return, I replied,  _"_ _ **Can't. Still at work. Maybe next time.**_ _"_

It was the split second after I'd hit the send button, my message already surfing its way through cyberspace, that I'd recalled Eren saying something along the lines of him wanting to take me out somewhere for our next date. Hopefully that movie invite hadn't been such an implication, because if that had been the case, I would have felt like crap.

Luckily, my phone ended up buzzing just a few minutes later with another message from Eren.  _"_ _ **That's fine. The movie that I wanted to see is already sold out anyway. Text me when you get off of work. I wanna talk.**_ _"_ About what, I hadn't the slightest clue. We could have talked about everything or nothing, it didn't matter. All I knew was that, after reading that message, I was counting down the minutes until closing.

 

* * *

 

You know that feeling you get, that feeling of excitement, but you're not entirely sure what you're excited for? It's a feeling that can resonate in the pit of your stomach, or it can circle and swirl in the depths of your throat, but it's a feeling of excitement nonetheless - you know that because it's not accompanied by the unrelenting need to vomit.

Eren gave me that feeling of excitement. Hell, Eren gave me a lot more than just that. No one but him had ever made me feel so confused about my emotions before. It was awful. It was  _wonderful_.

I drove home feeling ten years younger that evening. I listened to the pop garbage music that the kids are listening to on the radio these days, and I swore that I must have checked my cell phone at least several times at every single red light I'd pulled up to. If dating Eren made me feel young, I wondered how dating me must have felt to him. Maybe it made him feel mature, or maybe it made him feel ancient. I wouldn't know unless I asked. But that was the question: did I care enough about that to ask? After thinking about it from the span of one red light to another, I decided that, no, it didn't really bother me. Just as long as I wasn't holding him back from the life he truly wanted to live, he could think of me as an old geezer for all I cared.

When I finally got back to my apartment, I couldn't help noticing how big it was. I was being metaphorical, obviously; it wasn't like the walls had miraculously expanded in my absence. That would have been really neat if that were the case, but it wasn't. As I walked through the front door, set aside my keys, and took off my shoes, it felt like there was something - or  _someone_  - missing.

And yet, there were signs of him everywhere. There were the things that  _could_ be seen, like the haphazardly folded bedsheets that were still resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, and then there were the things that  _couldn't_ be seen, like the half eaten carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream that I knew was still in the freezer. But more than that, there was his aura, and his smell. Maybe it was just my imagination, but as I pulled back my sleeves and dug out my favourite set of paints, along with the new canvas that I had snagged from Hanji's clean-up operation back at the shop, I could swear that the scent of lemons still lingered within my apartment.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply as I allowed myself to merely enjoy the feverish feeling of having paint on my fingertips. This paint set wasn't my favourite without reason; I had a reason for everything that I liked, and for those paints, it was because of how their satiny smooth texture felt on my hands.

For a painter who is bound by the brush, that's the sort of sensation that's missed through translation, one might say. While the portrait is still painted, and the ease in each of the strokes is still the same, there is no sense of  _sense_. The painter will feel the brush, not the creation he or she is breathing life into. Honestly, I don't know. Maybe that's just my philosophy about art, but that's how I've always felt. I want to be the one to make love to my masterpiece, not a brush.

And make love to my masterpiece I did.

Loosing track of time is a wonderful thing, when you're in your own, little world, surrounded by the scents and the sensations that you've come to love all your life. I could have been working on that painting for ten minutes, or I could have been working on it for ten hours. All I knew was that when I stood up and deemed it to be complete, I had seven new messages and three missed calls from Eren.

Damn it. I forgot to message him when I got home.

Rushing to the kitchen sink, I began scrubbing my fingers with the rougher side of the sponge. It was an agony I hadn't prepared myself for. I'd gone from fondling a fountain of fluff, to petting a porcupine within seconds, and let me tell you, it was a harsh reality. Zero out of ten. Do not recommend.

After my hands were cleaner than I liked them to be right after finishing a painting, I grabbed for my cell phone and texted Eren back immediately. His messages were all worded along the same idea of,  _"_ _ **Are you home yet?**_ _"_ or _"_ _ **Are you okay?**_ _"_ Basically, I was dead to him, until I responded.

_" **Sorry about that. I got back...** " _I looked at the time on my phone. 12:23AM. Crap.  _" **I got back about four hours ago. I've been painting.** "_

It didn't surprise me that Eren had replied to my message within seconds. Knowing him, he must have been sitting in his bed, all snug and warm, clutching to his cell with bated breath until he heard back from me.  _"_ _ **Oh, okay. What were you painting?**_ _"_

Did he really need me to answer that? What have I been painting for the past three months? The answer should have been obvious by now.

_" **You.** "_

Just like that one time beforehand, on the night when we'd first began texting each other, it took Eren a few minutes to respond to my message. God, if only I could have seen his face. I don't know why, but I couldn't get the image of him curling up beneath his blankets, all flustered and whatnot, forming a little caterpillar cocoon out of my head. You know, like that thing he did earlier on the floor of my apartment.

I was just about to give up hope and set my phone down, when it buzzed to life with a new message from Eren. It sure did take him long enough, but I didn't feel like pointing it out to him. He'd just make up a lie and say that he had to run off to the bathroom again, or something.

_" **Am I the only thing you can paint anymore?** "_

Huh. Well, that was unexpected. It was also a bit too deep for me to answer to right away. Great, now I looked like the one who was stalling.

Ever since that mishap when I'd actually  _tried_ to paint something other than Eren - or an implication of him at the very least - I hadn't exactly attempted anything else. Eren was all that my fingers wanted to paint, so that's what I let them paint. If my fingers wanted to paint something else, then I would let them paint whatever they wanted. "Can" and "want" are two words that are not necessarily associated with one another, but in my case, they are. If my fingers want to paint Eren, they can. If my fingers don't want to paint anything other than Eren, they can't. While explaining that notion to him would have been ideal, I doubted that Eren wanted to receive anything other than a simple yes or no answer at this hour, and so, after gulping back my pride, I responded,  _"_ _ **Unfortunately, yes.**_ _"_

Eren and I went back and forth after that, talking about everything and nothing, just like I'd predicted. Instead of heading off to bed and texting him from there like I normally did, I chose to lay on the floor. Was it comfortable? No, but it reminded me of how we'd been laying together, him and me, approximately twenty-four hours ago.

One of the things that we talked about was the canvas I'd just painted. Eren was as curious as always and wanted to know what it looked like. He sent three messages asking me to take a picture of it and send it to him, but I knew that my cell phone's camera wouldn't do it justice. It was just one of those things that needed to be described through words, only to be brought to life through a pure sense of imagination.

And so, I described him as lovely and flawless. He was unmoving and statuesque, wrapped in wrinkled bedsheets that did him no justice, but complimented him all the same. The sunshine served as a heavenly halo, blessing him with beauty and crowning him in consciousness, while the shadows that hung on all four sides of his feet curled in contempt at his perfection. It may have very well been my greatest painting yet, and while it was nothing to scoff at compared to the real deal, if I did say so myself, I did a pretty damn good job of recreating the scene.

Eren was the first to fall asleep again. The flow of messages had gradually began to slow, while the content began to grow more and more dense. We'd gone from conversations about the end of the world and how we'd survive in apocalyptic situations to what our favourite cereals were.

I didn't even bother to check the time before going to sleep myself. I'd determine how late it was when I finally hit the hay by just how tired I was the next morning.

And you know what? It must have been pretty damn late, because I was exhausted.

Waking up felt like I was stepping into a blur. And in actuality, the next few days felt like a blur themselves. First it was Sunday, then by chronological nonsense, it was Monday, and before I knew it, it was already Tuesday, meaning that Eren would be coming in for his appointment without any given notice. Literally  _without_   _any given notice_. He hadn't marked down what time he'd planned on stopping in, so from open until close, I would be there, waiting for that kid to make his grand entry.

What's more, this would be the first time where Hanji was actually present during one of Eren's removal sessions. Maybe with another person in the room, he would be on his best behavior. Hah, yeah right.

As the day progressed, Hanji and I took care of our respective clients. It was nearly a miracle that neither of us had to deal with any picky customers; the three people that we handled were all very well-mannered and veteran tattoo receivers, so there were no complaints to be heard. Like I said, it was nearly a miracle.

And speaking of nearly, by the time I checked the clock, it was nearly 4PM. If my memory served me correctly, Eren would usually sashay his way into my shop around 4:30-ish, maybe more toward 5. But no, just as I'd made note of the time, it couldn't have been more than a minute later that Hanji and I had heard the all-too-familiar sound of tires crunching against gravel, before Eren pulled into the parking lot.

From the front window of the shop, I could see him get out of his car, only to falter at his side-view mirror. Crouching down, he began to fuss with his hair, toying with it until it beckoned to his command. Judging it suitable, he fixed his beanie and kicked a few pebbles of loose gravel in his wake as he headed for the door.

I'm not sure why I hadn't noticed it until he was standing in front of me, but Eren had definitely done something to his hair. Because of that, I didn't greet him like I typically would with one of my customers. Then again, Eren wasn't like one of my typical customers, now was he?

"You look different."

"Haha, yeah," Eren said, laughing lightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I got a few highlights. How do they look?"

They were burgundy highlights, a perfect match to the burgundy beanie he'd chosen to wear that day. It was almost ironic how far Eren's sense of fashion had come since we'd met. From the pastel nightmare he'd been wearing when he first set foot into my shop, to this. Now, his clothing choices were almost tolerable.

"I think it looks great!" Hanji intervened, giving her two-cents on the matter. "It has that whole, winter feel to it, you know?"

Eren nodded, because he did, indeed, know. "That's the look I was going for, honestly. Winter is my favourite time of the year."

And just like that, I learned something new.

Knowing that Frosted Flakes was Eren's favourite kind of cereal was great and all, but knowing his favourite season had so much more value to it. Why was it his favourite? Did he like it because of the weather, or did he like it because of the holidays? Now that he'd brought up such an interesting topic, I had so many different questions to ask him, but now wasn't the time for that. Now was the time to get down to business. Still, he deserved to know that I thought his hair looked pretty rad with reddish highlights in it, too.

By now, Eren knew the drill of how things went around here. Undo his pants, sit in the seat, and wait for me to get the equipment set up. Seeing as this was her first time witnessing the whole ordeal, Hanji was quite impressed by how professional we were with each other when it came to a working setting. Honestly, maybe having her as an observer was a good thing. Maybe she'd finally come to realize that business was business and private was private.

Wheeling the cart of gadgets and gizmos over toward Eren, I took my seat beside him and began assessing the damage done already. The ink from Eren's tattoo seemed to have reached its breaking point, so with this next session, he would finally start seeing some results.

After smoothing out the skin of his hip and applying a decent amount of pressure, I gave him a quick warning before I began. Like clockwork, Eren only winced once or twice from the initial shock of being zapped. After that, he was out like a light.

As I continued to work, smoothing away the ink and dabbing away his dribbles of blood, Hanji watched the both of us in amazement. She'd made short remarks here and there about how incredible Eren's endurance was, but they were all outshone by the one comment that hadn't even meant to be heard; the comment that she'd spoken beneath her breath in order to keep it her own secret.

"You treat him so gently...like porcelain."

Porcelain, huh? I'd never really thought of Eren that way. There was a delicacy to him, yes, but there was also a strength. Porcelain would have shattered beyond repair in the face of heartbreak. And yet, here he was. Cracked, but not broken. Hurt, but knowledgeable of how to bite back. If anything, I was the one who was made of porcelain, not Eren.

As per normal, Eren slept for the remainder of his session, while I mindlessly continued scraping and scratching away at his skin with the laser gun. Now that the ink was becoming less dense, his sessions would continuously become shorter and shorter. What took me an hour to do during his first session took merely thirty minutes during his third. It was amazing, really. By his fifth or sixth visit, he'd probably be in and out of my shop within ten minutes. Simply amazing.

Unlike his previous sessions, Eren had woken up considerably quickly after I'd finished working on him. I was still applying the dampened cloth as a form treatment by the time his slumber had forsaken him. With a faint smirk stirring at his lips, he'd asked, "What's this? Done already?"

"Yeah, I finished about ten minutes ago," I answered. "Wanna see?"

I knew it in my head that Eren would be happy to see that his tattoo was finally starting to look like remnants rather than, well,  _a tattoo_ , but I hadn't really pictured exactly  _how_ he would react. Picturing him cuddling up beneath blankets and clutching onto his cell phone was one thing, but for some reason, gaging his level of happiness was something I simply couldn't imagine. Not until I saw it, at least.

But even in my wildest of imaginations, when I'd removed that dampened cloth in order to show Eren the fruits of my labor, I would have never imagined such a sight to move him to tears.

"Finally..." he murmured, beneath his muffled sobs. "Thank God, it's finally going away..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here! 
> 
> And lo and behold, Eren's finally getting what he wanted -- his tattoo is finally starting to disappear! And with it, hopefully the dark memories from his past will disappear, as well.
> 
> This chapter ended up being a bit shorter than I expected, but I felt that if I kept going, it would have been way longer than I would have wanted it to be, so hopefully you all didn't mind! I mean, it still topped out over 4.1k in content. (:
> 
> Anywho, that's enough rambling from me! I sincerely hope that you all enjoyed this chapter, because I definitely enjoyed writing it!
> 
> And of course, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
>  
> 
> \-- Chappy


	19. Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's okay to cry. It's okay to cry. It's okay to cry.

* * *

  _Eren_

* * *

 

Ever since I was a little kid, I've been told that boys aren't supposed to cry. For whatever reason, we're supposed to keep our emotions bottled up tight to the point of bursting, because that's apparently the more "manly" thing to do. My mother used to tell me that girls absolutely hate it when boys cry, and my father confessed to never shedding a single tear in the presence of his wife. But if that was the case, and if it really wasn't socially acceptable for boys to cry in front of girls, or in front of anyone for that matter, why was it that tears were so quick to come to these sunrise eyes of mine?

Anytime I'd cut my fingers or bang up my knees real bad, I'd immediately run off to my bedroom where it was plausible for me to cry in the sanctity of seclusion. Of course, my mom would come knocking on my door minutes later to see to my wounds, but I wouldn't let her in until my sobs had officially ceased. I just couldn't help it. It was taught not to show my crying face to anyone, my mother included.

There is a very limited number of people in this world who have actually  _seen_  me cry. Even my best friend, Armin, and my military-bound sister, Mikasa, have only heard the sadness that soaked the voice dripping from my mouth, but neither have seen the tortured tears themselves. No, as I said, only a limited number of people have. And that limited number was two. Two people - aside from my inevitable parents - have seen me cry.

Those two people were Jean and Levi.

At one point in my life, Jean had been my everything. Even though it had been years since my mom had died, it was because of him that I'd finally started smiling again. He was the sole reason that I felt like I could get up in the morning and actually  _enjoy_ life, rather than spending my days mourning the loss of those who were no longer a part of it. That's what Jean did. He made me feel like  _me_ again.

And, I mean, not to get too personal here, but he was also my first.

I didn't delve into these details too much when I'd ranted to Levi about my relationship troubles, but our "first time" had been in the back of his car after one of his modeling photo shoots. I'd been there simply to cheer him on, but honestly, it was because of me that he got front cover of his magazine issue that month.

We'd spent the entire time making heated eye-contact with one another, so much so that by the end of the shoot, we were both feeling just a bit too aroused for comfort. But hey, like I said, it was because of me that each of Jean's "model glares" were just that much more intense, making him just that much more worthy of the front cover.

It kind of weird to think about all of this stuff now, but when you go from everything to nothing in the blink of an eye - or with the flick of a button on a camera - it's almost hard to believe how people can cope with such sadness. I did it. I mean, I don't know how the Hell I did, but I did it.

And you know what? So what if I cried while doing so? Jean went from being my first, to my everything, to  _nothing_. I was a warrior of love and a victim of heartbreak, and damn it, I deserved to cry because of him.

Speaking of which, at the point of our break up, I remembered being too far gone with my emotions to even care about what kind of face I was making. I probably looked as ugly as Hell, but did it really even matter? He was the one who'd done it to me. His foul play had sent me into the most messed up month of my young life, and I can never forgive him for that.

And so, I let my emotions out. Just like I'd explained to Levi back on the night of my first tattoo removal session, I screamed and cried until my throat was as raw as my aching heart. I didn't care who heard me; Hell, I wanted  _everyone_  to hear me. I wanted everyone in that damn apartment complex to hear and to understand just how much of a conniving cretin Jean was. I wanted to hear them bang on the walls and add volume to the noise that had seemed much too muffled at the time. I couldn't hear myself think, I couldn't hear myself breathe. All I could hear were my loud sobs of aggressive anguish, and the silence of an apology that had never been spoken.

That's right. To this day, Jean still hasn't apologized for cheating on me.

Man, I can't even remember how much I must have cried on my way to Armin's that night. I'd be damned if I spent the night with Jean after learning about his love escapades with Marco. But you know, after that one night, I haven't shed a single tear because of Jean. Nope. Not a single one.

Until today.

Seeing Levi's handiwork had really done me in. After my first session with him - I remembered it like it was yesterday - the second I got home, I pulled down my pants, pulled up my shirt, and stared at that stupid tattoo for the better portion of the night, wondering if the sheer intensity of my glare would somehow miraculously melt away the ink. My grimaces were to no avail, unfortunately. And after my second session with Levi - just like my first - I'd done the same thing. I'd pulled down my pants, pulled up my shirt, and yet again, I'd stared at that stupid tattoo; only the second time, I'd been so full of my flowering feelings for Levi, as well as the sensations of the hot and heavy kiss we'd shared that evening, that I didn't even bother to spend more than five measly minutes looking at the thing. Nah, I was too busy falling in love.

Now, getting back to the whole thing about not crying because of Jean until today, blah blah blah, it was because the moment I had looked down at my tattoo and had seen it in remnants rather than in radiance, I couldn't help myself from getting emotional. I mean, I probably would have pathetically excused myself and headed for the bathroom, seeing as it was the only place in the shop where I could cry my eyes out in peace, but with Levi's hand still delicately cupping the curve of my hip, his other holding the dampened cloth at bay, I had no inclination of getting off of that tattoo chair whatsoever.

And so I cried. Right there, out in the open, for everyone to see.

There was no place to go, nowhere to escape to; nowhere other than behind my hands, where I could hide my ugly face and muffle my mutilated sobs of joy. That's right. These were tears of pure happiness. If I'd been damned about spending the night with Jean after learning that he'd cheated on me, I'd be double damned if I spent another second wasting my sorrows on him.

It was about time I learned how to be happy again. Completely and genuinely happy. And if he wasn't there to give it to me anymore, I'd just have to give it to myself.

With my vision blurred by salt and skin, my hearing was at its finest. I could hear the sound of footsteps in the distance, footsteps that must have belonged to Hanji. She must have been excusing herself from the room, I guess. The clicks and the clacks from her heeled boots were going...backward? I wasn't really sure. They were moving around somewhere behind me, and so it was with more guessing that I figured she had to have been heading for the back room.

After I was certain that Hanji had officially left the room, I heard another noise; however, this one was substantially closer. It was a faint sound, almost like a soft sigh. It was a sound that was followed by something else - a sense that I not only heard, but  _felt_  as well. The worn texture of Levi's clothing came into contact with my torso as he pressed himself against my body, and I could feel him slowly, but surely, welcoming me into one of the warmest, most endearing of embraces I had ever been graced with.

It felt like happiness. It felt like love.

As always, his touches were tender - satin and smooth - as the tips of his fingers sent shocks of empathy coursing through my veins. There was a hesitance to his hand, as he ventured from my hip to my midriff, all the way up to the base of my neck. There, I could feel him stroking my neck tattoo, swirling a single finger around each of the ruptured rose petals, before taking a turn and cradling the back of my head within the full expanse of his palm.

I could only imagine how much of a nuisance seeing me like this must have been to him. I was crying, but I was happy. I was trying to hold back my tears, yet I was letting them out at full force. Damn, I must have been one pretty sight.

As his fingers played with my hair and danced across my scalp, he brought me closer, closer than we already were, and with a gentle nudge of acceptance, he whispered the words that I thought I would never hear, not from anyone. "It's okay to cry, you know. You don't have to hide it from me."

_"It's okay to cry."_

Wait, what?

_"It's okay to cry."_

I'm sorry,  _but what?_

_"You don't have to hide it from me."_

All my life, I've been told the exact opposite. "Boys aren't supposed to cry," I would hear from my mother. "I've never cried in front of your mother," I would hear from my father. And yet now, in the safety of arms that have done me no wrong and have given me all that is right in the world, I am being told that tears aren't a thing to be feared, and that I shouldn't hold back my sobs. That it's okay to cry. That it's okay to cry.  _That it's okay to cry_.

And cry I sure as Hell did.

Clinging to Levi like he was my one and only life support, I smeared my nasty tears into his shoulder as I sobbed out my gracious thank-yous, praising him for what a good job he was doing, and telling him just how much all of his hard work had truly meant to me - even though I'm sure he already knew that last part for himself.

"I know, Eren," I heard him murmur, as he pressed his lips to the side of my head. "I know."

We could have been there for months, or we could have been there for minutes; all I knew was that when Levi and I had finally parted from our heavenly hug, I had long stopped crying and his shirt had already dried from my dramatic display of vulnerability. When he asked me if I was feeling any better, I nodded and casually rested my forehead against his. "Thank you for everything, Levi," I whispered, because it was the only thing that felt right coming out of my mouth during a moment like this. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Hey, hey, hey," Levi answered softly, tapping his fingers against my cheek. "I'm sure you'd be just fine. You'd be in the same place, doing the same thing at the same time, but with a different tattoo artist."

Upon hearing him say that, I pulled my forehead away from his. Was he being serious? Did he honestly believe that? No, he couldn't. He wasn't understanding me. I needed to clarify my meaning for him.

Allowing myself to overindulge in my affections, I grabbed onto Levi by the backs of his shoulders and pulled him into my chest. What came next was a right that was reserved for him and for him alone; I let him listen to my mind, my mind as spoken through the breath of my words. "Levi, the  _you_ that I'm referring to is  _you_. Not Levi, the tattoo artist, or Levi, the man who owns a fancy tattoo shop on the corner of the street. The person whom I don't know what I would do without is _you_ , Levi."

Crap, now I wanted to see his face. After saying something so stupidly gushy, I could only imagine that he must have been making at least  _some_  kind of expression that was different from his usual scowl. But even though the desire was there, in the end, I didn't act on it. No, I was much too content with the feeling of having Levi's head resting against my chest, only hoping that he could hear the sound of my heart as it beat for him with pride.

Because we'd been silent for so long, I hadn't been expecting an answer out of Levi. What I'd said had been a statement, one that could have either been left as it was or agreed with, and seeing as Levi hadn't agreed with it, I'd assumed that he was simply going with the prior of the alternatives. But then, after our wordless drawl had met its end, I felt his head rustling against the fabric of my shirt, and I could swear I had heard him whisper, "My life wouldn't be the same without you."

It wasn't quite the same as my statement, but still very adorable.

It's funny, but Levi and I must have been so wrapped up in each other to even bother to notice that Hanji had returned from the back room with her things already packed up and ready to go. By the time we took note of her presence, she was already standing at the front door. "Well, you little lovebirds, I think I'm going to head out for the night!" she said with a smile. "Eren was our last client for the day, and I'd just hate to make a third-wheel out of myself, so I think it'd be best if I just gave you two your alone time. See you later!"

As Hanji made her exit, Levi pulled his head away from my chest and told her to text him later; about what, he didn't say. Hanji just nodded understandingly and waved us off as she made her way out of the shop.

As Hanji was leaving, I glanced over at the clock that hung from the wall behind the front counter, and after seeing that it was just a cluster of minutes after 5PM, I sighed in relief. Levi and I still had so much time to kill together before closing, time that I'd been craving ever since he and I had parted ways on Saturday morning.

But what would we even do?

I mean, we could kiss each other; that was always fun, but for some reason, I didn't feel like kissing him right now. And it wasn't something that Levi should have taken personally or whatever, it's just that, after crying my eyes out and sucking down snot bubbles, I didn't really feel all that prepped for an intensive make out session. So, yeah. Maybe some other time.

Just when I'd given up hope on formulating any sort of plan B, an interesting thought came to mind, one that would only  _be_ a plan B if Levi went along with it. "Hey."

"Yeah?" By the tone of his voice, I could tell that he already knew something was up. A clever man, he was. Very clever, indeed.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how opposed would you be to closing up the shop right now and coming on a little adventure with me?"

With slow, calculated movements, Levi sat back in his stool and crossed his arms in thought. "It depends. Just what kind of adventure are we talking about here?"

As much as I hated being cryptic, I also didn't want to give away the surprise of what I had in mind. "It's a bit of a secret. But like I said, it's a  _little_ adventure. Just a little one."

Seeming to have no qualms against a  _little_ adventure - just a little one - Levi sighed and took a stand. "Alright, then. In that case, I'd have to say that I'm about an 8.5 on your scale of 1 to 10." Lowering his ashy eyes - a trait that he must have picked up from me - I could hear the distinct challenge in his voice, as he whispered, "Convince me for the remaining 1.5."

Convince him, huh? Well, that shouldn't have been too hard. I'd convinced him to do the one thing he'd sworn he would never  _ever_  do, so getting him to go along with my little game should have been like child's play in comparison.

Swinging my legs over the side of the tattoo chair, I leaned forward in a coaxing manner. Smirking at my victory of causing Levi to quirk backward ever so slightly, I said, "Remember how I said that the next time we went on a date, it would be  _my_ turn to choose where we went?" He nodded. "Well, next time is now, and I've already made my decision about where I want to take you, so it's up to you whether or not you want to come with me. What do you say?" Maybe if I batted my eyelashes a few times and pouted my lips, I'd get him to answer in my favor. But I already knew that none of that was even necessary. Whether he liked it or not, I had Levi wrapped around my finger, and he had me wrapped around his.

Not about to let me act out of line like I usually did, Levi lifted his hand and flicked me in the nose, causing me to recoil pathetically. I guess I deserved it, but that didn't make the stinging in my nostrils any less prominent.

By the time I was done rubbing my nose, Levi was already walking toward the front counter. He'd picked up his car keys, as well as the keys to the shop, before gesturing for me to come with him. "If that's how it's going to be, then I guess I have no choice but to go along with you."

And so, with a jingle of his keys and a spring in my step, I was just about to hop off of the tattoo chair before Levi shot a judging glance at me from over his shoulder and said, "If we're really going on a 'little adventure' like you say we are, you're going to need to pull up your pants, kid."

Oh, that's right. Oops. But you see? This is exactly why I wouldn't know what I would do without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here! 
> 
> Now, before I say anything else, I'd like to apologize for how short this chapter is. If I'm going to be honest with you all, this chapter was actually supposed to be completely different, but with the stress of the end of the semester piling up on my shoulders, I just didn't have the motivation or the energy to write it out this week. And so, instead of leaving you guys with the disappointment of no chapter at all, I thought I would surprise you with a little treat from Eren's point-of-view! So, even though things didn't go as planned, I hope you were able to find some enjoyment in the chapter this week! (:
> 
> I can only hope that things will be back to normal for next week, because goodness, we're almost on chapter 20 already! I want to make it a truly special one for all of you! And once again, I really apologize for the length of this week's chapter.
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
>  
> 
> \-- Chappy


	20. Rust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Breathe through me. Fill up your lungs with us."

There is no such thing as a little adventure. No, wait. Scratch that. There is. A little adventure is trying to stumble your way into the bathroom in the middle of the night without turning the lights on. A little adventure is blindly reaching into the drawer where you keep all of your silverware and pull out a knife without cutting your hand. A little adventure is walking over an icy patch of tar on the street and being able to catch yourself just before you fall. Wherever Eren was planning on taking me, I severely doubted that it would meet the qualifications, because with him, there was no such thing as a little adventure.

After the kid shamelessly finished pulling up his pants, he joined me at the front of the shop and waited while I flicked off all of the lights. But his hesitance lasted longer than that. Even after all of the lights were off and the setting sun served as our only illumination, he seemed to falter for one reason or another, not exactly following me, but not exactly falling behind, either. He was just kind of...slow.

"Is something wrong?" I questioned. He stepped to my left as he waited for me to lock up, but even though his body was right beside mine, his head seemed to be somewhere in the clouds.

"Huh?"

He confessed to not hearing me. Lovely. After stating the same question for the second time, I had a feeling that I already knew the answer. "I asked if there was something wrong. You're kind of quiet all of a sudden." After slipping the shop's small ring of keys into my pocket, I turned and motioned a finger at him. "You know, I kind of thought you would be talking my ear off about this 'little adventure' that you've got planned, or something like that."

Batting his eyelashes before blabbering an answer, Eren fed his fingers through his newly dyed hair. I've come to learn that this was a bit of a nervous habit of his, one that he did when he was feeling uncomfortable or put on the spot. His little quirks don't happen often, but they're repeated enough so that when they  _d_ o happen, they're fairly easy to pick up on.

"Yeah, well," he began, his fingers still toying with flicks of his fiery fringe, "I guess I don't want to slip up and accidentally give away where we're going. That would really suck, you know?"

Yeah, for him. In my case, I didn't exactly care if I knew where we were going or not. The only thing that was on my mind at the moment was how we were going to get to this little adventure's location. Was it close enough to walk to, or were we going to have to drive? And if driving was the answer to that uncertainty, then whose car were we going to take?

As I casually leaned against the wall of the shop, I looked off to my left and watched aimlessly as a staggered string of cars drove by. Eren was still messing with his hair, and didn't really seem like he knew where to go from here. It was like he was excited for my reaction, but anxious as well. Not only did that remind me of how I had felt when he had visited my apartment, it reminded me of just how adorable Eren could be when he's not being a little brat.

"Hey," I spoke softly, not exactly looking at him, but not exactly ignoring him, either.

He stopped playing with his hair for long enough to grant me a simple answer. "Yeah?"

Turning my gaze away from the traffic and eyeing Eren with peculiar interest, I made it my attempt to soften his sudden onset of awkwardness by saying, "I'm ready to go. Rather, I want to you take me."

I was more than aware of the field of landmines my words had me dancing across, but that was my intention from the start. If there was one thing I'd learned about Eren since he came crashing into my life, it was that he had an appreciation for raunchy humor.

Lifting a brow at me, Eren folded his arms and cocked his head to the side. His simple chuckle was like music to my ears, and when it was slowly accompanied by his infamous smirk of a smile, I knew that I'd subdued his tension.

"Geez, Levi," he snickered. "I know this is our third date, or whatever, but honestly, you don't have to be so straightforward about it."

There he was. This was it. This was the Eren that I knew and loved. Wait,  _loved_? Did I just...? Okay, maybe I was putting too much thought into something so minor, but there was no use in fretting over it. I mean, Eren and I were far beyond the point now where I couldn't deny that I had love for him. So, yeah. This was the Eren that I knew. This was the Eren that I _loved_.

"Well, I won't make you wait any longer, then," he said, and jabbed a finger at me as a gesture to follow him. "We'll take my car."

Whether a person realizes it or not, cars are like little reflections of ourselves. They tell more about a person than some are willing to admit. For example, people who feel comfortable enough eating fast food in their cars, not really caring whether or not a French fry falls into the dark abyss between the seats and the cup holders, chances are, those people are relatively laid back and easy-going. Then you have the people who wouldn't even dare to drive unless they've checked and double checked and triple checked their dashboards. Are any safety lights on? How many miles are left before an oil change is needed? Is there enough air in the tires? Etc., so on and so forth. It probably goes without saying that the people who are so conscious about those sorts of things are the type of people who may need to step back for a second and, oh, I don't know, chill out?

Well, in about twenty seconds flat, I was about to find out what kind of person Eren was, even though I already had a pretty good idea from what I'd seen of his car in the past. It made me wonder if Eren still had all of those photographs I remembered seeing spread across on his backseats, when I'd peered through his car's windows a couple months ago.

And sure enough, when we sloshed through the gravel and rounded the corner of a bumper curb, curiosity had me peeking into his back windows. All of the pictures I'd remembered seeing were still there, with the added cluster of a few more. Even though they were "new" photographs, the images they displayed were horribly familiar. I couldn't say that he'd copied all of them, but a decent amount of the newer pictures were some of the same photographs that Eren had given to me to paint for him, along with the single picture that he had taken of my apartment's floor.

Crap, the painted pictures. I'd left them in my car.

"Hey, I'll be back in a second."

Already moving away from his car, Eren asked me, "Wait, why? Where are you going?"

"I have my 'homework' for you, Mr. Photographer," I responded, dismissing him with my hand as I continued to walk off. "I left the pictures I painted for you in my car, so I'm just going to grab them really quick. I don't want to forget." Like I could ever forget such a thing, but whatever.

As I made my way over to my car, I pulled out the same ring of keys that held the keys to my shop and unlocked the driver's side door. I could hear the sounds of Eren getting into his own car in the distance, starting up his engine and whatnot. Pulling back the door and leaning over driver's seat, I reached for the manilla envelope of painted pictures with an acute awareness that I had a certain set of sunrise eyes on me. Not that I could ever say that for certain, of course. Eren would look away before I even turned around, I know that for a fact; however, that doesn't excuse the sunburn he'd left me with from staring so hard. Whether or not I could say it for sure, I'm fairly positive that when I'd bent over to retrieve those photos, Eren had been staring at my ass. Nice.

By the time I made it back to Eren's car, he'd already buckled himself up and had his hand resting on the gear shift. I noted his curled fingers, all ready to pull the shift back and into reverse. Okay, either he was really excited to get going on this adventure of his, or he was trying to look cool. Whichever one it was, it did nothing for me. It didn't make me dip my head any lower, and it didn't make me climb into the passenger's seat any faster. Try again with smoother moves next time.

"Here." I handed him the envelope, half expecting him to tear back the flap and take a look at them right away; however, seeing as I only half expected such a thing, I was only half disappointed when he thanked me simply and tossed them into the back seat. Oh, well. He knew my work ethic, and he knew my style. Why waste time looking at those pictures now when he could look at them for as long as he wanted later?

Better yet, why was I even wasting my time placing justification on something like this? Heh, maybe I was more disappointed than I wanted to admit.

Eren waited for me to buckle up, before shifting his car into reverse and pulling up toward the exit that also served as the entrance of the lot. While he waited for the sudden surge of traffic to pass us by, he twisted the heat adjustment on his control panel and flipped on the radio. Huh, I hadn't pinned him as the type of kid to listen to the mainstream stuff. No, wait. Just kidding. As he was making his turn out of the lot, Eren switched his radio onto its CD setting.

If one's emotions cause a person feel heavy, weighted down by the burden of humanity, than music is the mixture of medicine that cleanses our souls, hollows out our core, and makes us feel light. Music is the string of vibrations that awaken our ears and settle our minds after we've separated ourselves from the world; it is the air that fills our lungs when we feel like we're drowning. Music is much more than a simple or a complex sound. It is a staple, a definer, and just as you can determine a lot about a person's personality based on how clean they keep their car, you can see through the fragmented window of a person's soul by taking a moment to listen to their song.

The song that started playing was not the type of music I would have pinned someone like Eren to listen to. It was light, girlish almost, and it had me asking, "What is this?"

Eren had to think about that for a second, as he focused on making a quick turn around the corner. "Uh, it's a CD by the band CHVRCHES. This song right now is called 'Lungs'. It's pretty good. I like their music."

"Huh." Well, that was rather coincidental.

Eren shot me a quick glance. "What? You don't like it? I can shut it off if it's bothering you."

I shook my head and swatted at the hand that was hovering dangerously close to the "Eject CD" button on his radio. "It's fine. I'm just surprised that this is the kind of stuff you listen to, that's all."

"Why?" Eren scoffed amusedly. "Because it's girly?"

I mean, yeah, I'd thought that originally, but I still felt kind of rotten owning up to something so judgmental. "Yeah, but that's not why I'm so surprised. I guess I just wasn't expecting you to be the type of person who'd listen to such happy-sounding music."

For whatever reason, Eren gave me a side-eye glance, before scoffing once more. "Oh, you think this is a happy song, now do you?"

The Hell if I knew. To be honest, I could hardly understand a single word of what the girl was saying. "I mean, it sounds happy."

"I see." Making another turn, this one a bit slower, Eren pulled onto a very specific side street, one that is hardly ever frequented by people or cars of the like.

"It's a song about a relationship that isn't working out."

Huh. I would have never guessed. I mean, if I could understand what the Hell the singer was actually saying, maybe I would have made the connection sooner, but honestly, the cheery tune had me so captivated that I hadn't been focusing on anything else.

Neither of us spoke for a while after that; we simply listened in silence as the rest of the song played itself out. In fact, the lack of conversation gave me time to think about the deeper meaning behind Eren's choice of music. Truthfully, I may have been analyzing this concept a bit too deeply, but whatever. I always put too much thought into things. It's one of my most exhausting traits, paired right next to my inability to use public restrooms. The bathroom that we have at the shop is fine, but I can't even tell you how many times I've had to drive all the way back to my apartment from the mall, or the grocery store because I had to take a crap. Yeah, fun times.

Back to what I was saying before, though, about how I truly believe that Eren's preference in songs goes deeper than just the surface, I had to admit that it was a difficult puzzle to piece. Eren, a person who has been through so much heartache and pain, enjoys listening to happy music because...? Is it to help him forget? To cope? To move on?

My eyes watched the passing scenery of flaming foliage as we drove through the single most deserted back road in the entire town, one that I drove down or walked through if I was ever in need of clearing my head. Painting always did me justice whenever I needed it to be my escape, but sometimes, even getting away from the things or the activities that you love the most is a must.

And that's when I realized it. That's when I realized why Eren's music sounded so light on my ears.

I'd learned it from the very beginning. I'd learned that the kid was a sheep in wolf's clothing. His exposure was rugged and sly from the start, a fault that filled him to the brim with cocky quirks. But on the inside, Eren was soft and fragile, and I'd been lucky enough to see that gentler side of his on more than one occasion. His heart was made of glass, his soul of paper. Just like Eren, the song that was still flowing through the speaker system of the radio was a sheep in wolf's clothing itself. It held an upbeat, electronic sound to it, yet its deeper meaning was something stronger, something sensitive, something that could have simply been sung to the symphony of an acoustic.

I'd been so caught up in my thoughts about the song, and basically Eren himself, that when the music faded out and a brief period of silence followed its conclusion, I felt its lack of presence. But not for too long, of course, because just as I'd grown accustomed to the quiet, the next song on the CD track began to play. This one was hyper and happy as well, there was no surprise there; the surprise was that I'd actually caught myself absently tapping my finger along with the beat.

"They're pretty good, huh?" Eren asked conversationally. Even though it had only been minutes of muted interaction, hearing his voice again somehow made it feel much longer than that.

"Yeah, they've got an interesting sound." I couldn't deny them that. They were  _actually_ unique; they didn't just sound like every other stupid "love" song that played on the radio nowadays. God, I sounded just like my mother. I must be getting old.

Eren continued to drive down the long path of dirt road, a road that gradually grew narrower and narrower as we went on. Tapping his thumbs against his steering wheel and humming along to the melody, he seemed pretty content with himself, and I couldn't exactly blame him. By all means, today had been a good day for him. His tattoo was finally fading away, his hair was looking on point, and he was going on a date with me. He couldn't have asked for better, honestly.

Okay, maybe  _I_ was starting to sound like the cocky one, now. Meh, whatever.

Speaking of our date, anyone who wasn't familiar with the area we were driving through would have probably started freaking out a long time ago. I'd said it before, but I couldn't stress the idea enough - this place was  _deserted_. Basically, it's like you're driving through an unlit, uninhabited forest with nothing but trees for a stretch of two or three miles.

And because I was quite familiar with the area, I was starting to have a feeling that I knew exactly where Eren was taking me. I'd still try to act surprised, though. Maybe.

Driving along for another handful of minutes or so, it wasn't until we reached the absolute end of the road - delicately decorated with a rusted, overgrown "DEAD END" sign - that Eren began to slow down, ultimately pulling his car into park and killing the engine. Thankfully, he'd kept his headlights on, because we sure as Hell were going to need them for where we were going.

"Well, here we are!" he spoke in faux enthusiasm. "Isn't this adventure exciting already?"

"It certainly will be," I sighed, and undid my seat belt. "Especially if you're planning on taking me to the lovers oak tree." Oops. So much for acting surprised.

Absolutely mortified that I'd already figured him out, Eren whipped his head toward me. His eyebrows were knit with disappointment, his eyes hinting with the slightest shroud of confusion. "Wait, you know about that tree?"

Folding my arms, I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Everyone knows about that tree, Eren. It's the one and only private place in this close-knit town where teenagers can go to make out and stuff."

"Wait, really? Is that really true?"

I nodded. Why would I even lie about something so disgusting? God, I can only imagine how many kids must have gotten lucky under that tree. Just the thought of it made me want to vomit.

"I had no idea..." Eren cast his gaze away from mine, seemingly disappointed that our little adventure wasn't going to be as big of a surprise as he'd hoped it would be. "Honestly, I just wanted to take you here because I overheard one of my classmates raving about it. She said that oak leaves are absolutely stunning in the beginning of November, so I went to check this place out for myself on the night when the movie I wanted to go see was sold out. And she was right. The leaves really are beautiful."

Eren began to stare wistfully at the brush of forest life. It was hard to see the tree itself through all of the shrubbery, but we both knew it was there. I honestly felt bad for the kid. Eren must have had his hopes flying as high as a kite, only to have them come crashing down.

Well, maybe I could be the wind that would lift his spirits.

"You know," I sighed, leaning back in my seat, "even though I've seen this tree before, I've never actually seen it in the autumn when all of its leaves are changing. I kind of want to see something like that."

Immediately perking up, Eren shifted in his seat and turned to face me yet again. "You've really never seen it when its leaves are changing?" I shook my head. "Really?" I shook my head again. If I shook it once, I'd shake it twice.

I'd been down this path quite a bit during the spring and the summer, but I'd honestly never felt the need to venture down this road during the autumn and winter months. Maybe that's because those are the six months out of the year when my artistic abilities are at their peak; I never felt the need to break away.

Moving his hand away from the gear shift and onto his door's handle, Eren was already getting out of his car when he motioned for me to follow him. "Come with me, then," he said sweetly. Yes, it's a miracle. Eren actually said something  _sweetly_. "I want to be the one to show it to you."

Well, if that didn't make my heartbeat fall out of pattern, I didn't know what would.

Following Eren's coaxing order, I moved to climb out of the passenger's seat, while he rounded the bumper of his car. Popping open his trunk, he pulled out what appeared to be a blanket. What were we going to do? Stargaze? Better yet, maybe he had plans to replicate the first night we'd spent together at my apartment. Wouldn't that have been nice. I mean, hey, I wasn't picky. We could recycle dating ideas all we wanted to and I doubt that I'd ever really get bored of them. Kissing was kissing. Blankets were blankets. They were wonderful whenever, wherever, and with whoever.

But now that I think about it, my whole philosophy about kissing whoever I wanted was starting to feel a bit biased. I didn't feel like kissing just whoever anymore; the only person I wanted to kiss was Eren. It's funny how things like that happen, isn't it?

"Ready to go?" Eren asked, whilst folding up the blanket.

I shrugged. "Whenever you're ready, I'm ready."

Finishing up with his folds, Eren patted the blanket until it was flat before hugging it to his chest. After taking a few steps through the twigs and the underbrush of the woods, he was ready to lead the way.

You know, I don't think I've ever actually seen Eren's back before; rather, I don't think I've ever actually paid much attention to it until now. I mean, how could I not? He was walking directly in front of me.

I began noticing the small things that I hadn't really recognized before, like how Eren had a slight slump in his step when he walked over rocks, and how his shoulders were pretty broad for a kid of his lanky stature.

Now, it goes without saying that everyone's eyes are prone to wandering, right? I am not mystically exempt from this common, human trait. It's just a thing that happens. We take a quick peak, and then we're pretty satisfied, right? Well, not quite.

As Eren was stepping over a low-growing shrub, my vision must have decided that it was the perfect time to head south for the winter, because the first thing I knew, I was staring at Eren's back, and now I was staring at his  _backside_.

Wow. Up until this moment, I've never bothered to look at Eren like that before. It felt so...invasive? But at the same time, was it really a crime if I liked what I saw? And wait, wasn't Eren the one who had been staring at me earlier? Yeah, that's right. I wasn't going to let him get away with that. Kids like him needed to be called out on their bad behavior.

Stepping over the last of the shrubs with him, we walked into the vast and widely open meadow where the grass was never really green to begin with, but more of a robust rust color instead. That's when I flat out asked him, "Hey, Eren? Were you staring at my ass earlier?"

Not at all fazed by the nature of my question, Eren smirked his infamous smirk, and like music itself, he turned to me with an air of composed confidence. "That depends. Were you staring at mine just now?"

Ah, touché.

Yes, just like music itself, Eren was never one to miss a single beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> The adventure location has been revealed! It's kind of romantic, isn't it? Even though Eren had no idea about the oak tree's claim to fame, it's almost better that way. He picked out that spot because he liked it for what it was, not what it was known for. Just thought I'd shed some light on that! (:
> 
> Anyways, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I hope that you all enjoyed reading it, as well!
> 
> And of course, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	21. Amber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honey-yellow, orange gradient, and vibrant red.

If the sun is beauty, then the moon is grace. The sun illuminates even the darkest of crevices, spreading its everlasting light and casting away the shadows that encompass our hearts. But the moon isn't to be forsaken, for the moon is our grace. Its elegance and its charm coaxes the nightlife into stirring, beckoning its dwellers into a starlit serenade. The safety of the sunlight, and the sensuality of a midnight. Yes, if the sun is beauty, then the moon is grace.

Eren is my beauty, and I am his grace.

Still holding the blanket to his chest as we walked across the expanse of the meadow, Eren turned his gaze toward me. He had a tender look in his eye, much different from the snarky smirk he'd been showing me a few minutes ago. "So, what do you think, Levi? It's a lot cooler when all of the leaves are changing colors, right?"

He was referring to the tree, of course, but for a moment, I was struck dumbfounded by his question. The leaves? What leaves? I wasn't even looking at the tree. How could I possibly think to turn my attention to the leaves and the lumber when I was looking at amber?

Eren may not have been aware of it, but at the exact angle at which the setting sun was reflecting vibrance off of his visage, his eyes had been set ablaze; a fiery image of ferocity and flamboyance. Even his burgundy bangs had taken on a whole new identity. The dense color was no longer recognizable as such, but had instead become a brassy copper, almost like the blondest of strawberries.

I wanted to say something. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel his fragility, but not hold. Holding would be too much. Mere mortals do not have the right to capture such beauty, to bind it by unbathed arms. Right now, I wasn't in the presence of that same little brat who came waltzing into my tattoo shop a few months ago. I was in the presence of Eros, of Apollo, and I felt unworthy of such magnificence.

Damn it, I was in way too deep.

"Uh, Levi?"

Eren must have gotten flustered from my staring, because when I didn't answer him right away, his cheeks began to dust and his eyes began to waver.

"I'm sorry, what was your question?" I remembered Eren's question, I just wanted to hear him repeat it. In any case, the topic of my staring would be diverted and a new conversation would be brought into the light; what little light was left, that is.

"I asked you about the tree," he spoke softly, even gesturing toward it with his head. "It's really cool when all of its leaves are changing, isn't it?"

Finally facing forward, I looked ahead of where our footsteps were taking us. And Hell, "cool" was quite the understatement, but maybe that was just the artist in me talking. Regardless, that tree was so much more than just cool; it was a God-given gift of grand generosity.

I'm not all that familiar with the anatomical names of plants and trees of the like, so if the tops of trees actually have a biological term to them, I apologize. For my own sake, let's just call it the "halo". Why the halo? Well, all of the leaves that dressed the top of the tree were drenched in a delicate, honey-yellow hue. Descending from the halo to the "neck"of the tree, the age of the honey-yellows began to show, transforming them into crisp, orange gradients. It was almost stupefying how such natural beauty could exist in a world so overpopulated with modernization and technology. And finally, rounding the "skirt" of its majesty, a vibrant red dripping with life and lust corrupted the remaining leaves with a taste of temptation.

Out of all of the words in the English dictionary that there were to be said, Eren chose to describe this spectacle with a term of slang that didn't even pair up with its original meaning. Okay.

Although I didn't agree with his word choice, I couldn't exactly disagree with him, either. It was an understatement, yes, but it was a statement nonetheless. "Yeah," I sighed, shuddering at the sudden chill of my own breath. Was it just me, or did the temperature drop, like, five degrees is five seconds? No, that wasn't it. It was the sun. Without ever recognizing its absence, the sun had taken its leave for the better these standard hours, giving way to the hollow of a moon that was just barely peeking beyond the horizon.

I heard Eren gently chuckle, as he began to unravel the blanket within his arms. "Good thing I brought this," he muttered, as he stretched out is softness. "I forgot my jacket back at my apartment, and I noticed that you weren't wearing one either, so I figured we'd find some use for a blanket. Here, come closer."

Eyeing him with slight skepticism, I followed his lead until our arms met with a brushing friction. As he wrapped the blanket around the both of our shoulders like a cape of comfort, I felt the need to ask him, "Why do you keep a blanket in your car?" It seemed like an odd thing to me, considering that it wasn't summer anymore and I'm almost positive that he had no plans to go to the beach. Then again, wouldn't a towel be more useful to him?

"It's funny that you ask," he said, sounding a bit ashamed as we continued our strides toward the tree. "You see, on my way home from one of my photography gigs, I'd say...about three years ago? Yeah, definitely three years ago. Anyway, on my way home, my car just decided to break down on the side of the road. And, you know, with my luck, it just so happened to be one of the coldest days of my entire life, so I practically froze my butt off until...yeah."

"Huh?" Wait, why did he trail off? Hell, the story was just about to get interesting.

Shaking his head, Eren feigned amusement by laughing off his discomforts. "No, no, it's just that...the person who I called to come and pick me up was, well... It was Jean."

Oh. I see.

Eren pulled at his portion of the blanket, coiling it around his shoulders with grip so tight that I had to struggle to keep a hold on my end of the faded fabric. "...Remember how I told you that I lost my virginity in the back of a car?" I tried not to, but yes, I did, unfortunately, remember. "When Jean saw how cold I'd gotten, he figured that we should at least spend some time cuddling in his car, you know, with the heater on and stuff. Well, one thing led to another, and before I knew it...yeah. Anyway, enough about that."

"Do you regret it?"

My toes were tipping over landmines, and I knew that, but this wasn't the first time that Eren had brought up Jean during our common conversations. It wasn't that I felt insecure about his feelings for me, or that I feared the rekindling of long-lost feelings for his ex-lover. My question was purely a matter of past and present. Now, I can't speak for everyone when I say this, but many humans, by their nature, are filled with regret. Regret over missed opportunities, or the regret of timely mistakes that thicken our skin and break our hearts.

I've always been a firm believer of the past. Whether we like it or not, we are defined by our past. The presence of our present selves is proof of that. Scars, stretch marks, tattoos, and tears; temporary and permanent. They are the signs of love, life, lust, and loss, and they define us as we are, who we were, and what we will become. That is why I believe so strongly in the past, and that is why I whole-heartedly advocate the importance of permanency in a decision.

"Do I regret it?"

I nodded, and put a halt on our trek toward the tree (when I said the meadow had been vast, I hadn't been kidding. It's a big ass meadow, alright?). The volume of my question spoke louder than the words themselves; that's why I knew that Eren would need some time to mull over his answer. It was a heavy one, because if he delved deeper into it, I wasn't simply asking him if he regretted losing his virginity. I was asking him something much more complex.

In its essence, I was asking him if he regretted ever dating Jean at all.

With a breath big enough to fill up his lungs, Eren let out a lofty sigh before loosening his grip on the blanket. Now it hung around his shoulders lifelessly, an image that shed a nostalgic memory of our first morning together. Ah, but even in the faint glow of an evening rising, nothing could quite replicate the masterpiece of that morning.

"You know," Eren started off slowly, "I used to regret it. All of it. I used to regret  _everything_  about Jean. I regretted how special he made me feel. I regretted ever allowing his hands to touch me. I regretted all of the hours I spent loving him, and all of the hours I'd spent living under the illusion that he loved me."

A small gust of wind took to the leaves of the oak tree, causing them to rattle and rustle, providing ample ambiance for a moment so melancholy. Lifting his head at the sound, Eren closed his elegant eyes and inhaled the fragrance of fall. It was with that motion that he dropped his hold of the blanket entirely, disregarding its warmth as his own arms took its place in a half-hearted embrace.

"But I don't regret any of it anymore. In fact, this might sound kind of crazy, but I'm actually  _thankful_  for the pain. I'm thankful for the tears, and I'm thankful for the hurt, because without it..." Eren opened his eyes. He wasn't quite looking at me, nor was he looking away, but nevertheless, I could feel his attention. He may not have been looking at me with his eyes, but he was most certainly looking at me with his heart. "Without any of it, I wouldn't have met you, Levi."

It honestly hurt to hear something so truthful. Because of Jean, Eren fell in and out of love. Because of him, he'd spent months in mental recovery, trying to place unplaceable justification on the decisions that he had made, and at what cost? To meet some halfway decent guy who owned a tattoo shop and could erase the markings of his mistakes? Sounded like a pretty big price for something so simple, if you asked me. I was just doing my job - or at least the opposite of it. I wasn't the one being punished here. The punishment was on Eren, a pitiful kid who wore his heart on his sleeve, only to have it tainted before being ripped away from him.

Now it was my turn to look at him, but not  _really_ look at him. Turning my head toward the tree where countless numbers of lovestruck teens must have professed their undying emotions for one another, I exhaled a clouded breath, before putting my wonder into words. "Was it really worth it?"

As I'd mentioned, I wasn't looking at Eren, but I could practically feel the confusion on his face as it slipped through his lips. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Sighing once more, I figured that I'd better tear into my thought process and lay it all out for him. Shouldn't have been too difficult, right? "What I'm saying is, was  _I_ really worth it, Eren? Am I really worth all of the pain and all of the heartache that preceded our first meet-"

"Yes, you are."

There was no hesitation; in fact, the little brat interrupted me while I was talking. But that didn't matter, nor did I really care. What he had to say next blew my mind away.

"You may not realize this, Levi, but before I met you, I was pretty sure that I'd forgotten how to smile. You know, not like the fake smirks and the cocky grins that I flash here and there, but an actual, real smile. I felt like my mouth just, it just couldn't form the shape of one anymore. But then you, you helped me find it again, among many other  _genuine_  things. You helped me find my laugh, and my sensuality. You helped me discover that it's okay to dream again, and that it's not all that scary to get your feet wet before diving in when you know you're really falling for someone. Really...falling in love with someone."

And there it was. The heart that Eren wore on his sleeve was making its show again. It may have been a little stitched up here and there - adorned with pinches and patches on its parts - but it was alive. It was alive, it was beating, and it was full of unconventional, unconditional love.

I'd never been a smoker, but I could go for a light right about now. Just when I thought Eren couldn't be any more of an idiot, he goes and says something like that. Honestly, how can he say something so sentimental with such a straight face? Did he even realize how fast my heart was beating because of him? How fast it was beating  _for_ him? If I died of a heart attack tonight, it would be all his fault.

"Falling in love with someone, you say," I repeated, breathing off the draft of my breath. Maybe if I fantasized the act of smoking, I'd be graced with the false aftereffects of faux nicotine. "Sounds nice, doesn't it?"

Letting go of half of a laugh, Eren shook his head and bent over to retrieve the fallen side of his blanket. Once it was back up and around his shoulders, he simply said, "Yeah, it does."

Falling in love, huh? I'd never really thought about it before. No, not until Eren came into the picture, that is.

 

* * *

 

When we finally -  _finally_ \- made it to the surfaced roots of the grand oak tree, Eren suggested that we lay the blanket on top of the grassy patches of earth and lie beneath the leaves. Holding no oppositions to such a suggestion, we flattened out the blanket, spreading it as far as its aged fabric would go. As we laid there, with our knuckles just barely brushing, but not entirely touching, realization dawned on me. "You know, Eren," I started, turning my head toward him. "You never finished telling me why you keep a blanket in your car."

"Oh, that," he snickered. He must have thought that topic had gone stale, seeing as I was already pretty confident in his answer. "Yeah, well, after getting stranded like that, it spooked me into wanting to be more prepared for those kinds of things. Like, not only do I keep a blanket back there, but I also keep a couple of water bottles, a flashlight, a few snacks, and a first-aid kit."

"Sounds to me like you're getting ready for a zombie apocalypse, or something."

Eren rose a hand at me. "Hey, zombie apocalypses are serious business. If I was getting ready for one of those, I'd need a crossbow, maybe a few bottles of hydrogen peroxide, and some better snacks."

Rolling my eyes at his stupidity, I turned my attention back to the leaves. It was a mystical experience to be staring directly at them from beneath the tree. Whenever I came into the meadow to clear my head, I'd only made it about half of the way that Eren and I had traveled; I'd never been this close to the oak tree itself before.

Eren pulled me out of my thoughts, when he spoke up again. "Hey, Levi?"

I eyed him questioningly. "Yeah?"

"You said that this tree is where people come with their boyfriends and girlfriends to make out and stuff, right?"

"That's right."

"And you said that you've been here quite a few times before, right? Didn't you say something like that?"

My brows began to furrow, as I turned my head back over to Eren again. Whatever he was saying, it sounded like a lot of bush beating to me. "Eren, what are you getting at here?"

Fiddling with fingers that rested restlessly on top of his abdomen, Eren turned his head toward me as well, before asking, "I've just been wondering... Did you ever come here with one your boyfriends or girlfriends?"

Was he being serious? What kind of question was that? He wasn't making any...oh. Oh, I see. I knew exactly what Eren was trying to do. It was a "couple" thing, and it was cute, but he honestly had nothing to worry about.

He was trying to find a place that we could call "our place".

"I came here with Hanji once."

"Wait, what?!"

I don't think I'd ever seen Eren sit up any faster in my handful of months of knowing him. Even when he'd fallen asleep in one of the tattoo chairs for the first time, he still didn't jump up any quicker than how he'd jumped right now.

In any case, now was probably a better time than any to tell him about Hanji and me.

Sitting up with him, I scratched the back of my neck before running my fingers over my undercut. The hairs were getting a bit longer than I typically liked them; I'd have to get another trim soon. "You see, Hanji and I tried dating each other when we were back in college. We didn't really have feelings for each other, no more than we do now, but we were both pretty lonely and in need of some affection."

The look on Eren's face was so priceless that I would have actually  _paid_ money to preserve it.

"You two... You actually  _dated_ each other?"

Still scratching the back of my neck, I shrugged. "Yeah, but it only lasted for a couple of weeks. When we had our fill of kisses and other things, we realized how gross dating each other actually was. She and I, we're pretty much soul mates, but in the friendship kind of way. Does that make sense?"

Still wearing the same, shocked expression from before, Eren nodded even though his words went against the gesture. "It does, but what I still don't get is why you would take her here if you knew what this place was all about."

I shrugged again. "I mean, we thought we were in love, or really falling for each other at least, so we figured, 'Hey. Why not make out at that tree where everybody else makes out. Sounds romantic, right?' Well, no, it really wasn't. When we pulled up to the end of the woods in my car, we spent a good five, maybe ten minutes swapping spit before actually getting out and walking over the forest brush. And by the time we made it halfway to this tree right here, we already knew that we weren't a couple anymore."

Eren blinked. "You just...knew? Like, neither of you made it official or anything, you both just...?"

He really seemed to be having a difficult time understanding the complexity of my relationship with Hanji, and I didn't blame him. We were pretty strange, in a perfect kind of way. "Yeah, we just knew. Like, her hand fell out of mine, and that was it. We walked back to the car in silence, and on the way to our college campus, we chatted like we were best buds again, nothing more."

Thinking back on it, it really  _was_  a weird way of ending things, but whatever. I'm just glad that things between us ended when they did. After all, Hanji met Mike no less than a week later.

"Wow," Eren breathed, gazing back up at the tree. "That's...wow."

Yeah, wow. Excuse you for being so judgmental.

With a raised eyebrow, I clicked my tongue and punched Eren's shoulder lightly. He deserved that after making me feel like the weird one out of the both of us. Even so, the effect that I was going for didn't bite. Eren merely laughed at my hit, and instead of shying away from it, he grabbed a hold of my wrist and held it captive.

I watched his fingers as they continued to curl, tighter and tighter, until the edges where his nails clenched my skin began to tint with white. It didn't hurt; no, I've felt much more pain than this, but it was a bit unexpected. Why was he holding onto me so strongly? Was he trying to tell me something?

Just as before, a shock of wind took to the leaves and caused them to shutter and shake; however, this time around, the leaves actually began to disperse.

It was as if the sky was crying amber, leaving the wind to wipe away its tender tears as they spiraled and swirled around the innocents. Eren and I sat together, motionless, astounded by the view. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before, and honestly, I wanted to stare a little longer, but that wasn't about to happen.

Using the hand that he had firmly clasped around my wrist, Eren pulled me into him, drawing our lips into a dance just as erratic and erotic as the leaves that twirled around us.

Our bodies rolled along the roots as we kissed each other like it was the end of the world; or a pending zombie apocalypse at the very least. Holding onto my head like I was his most precious possession, we licked each others' wounds by licking each others' lips, relishing in the sweet scent of seduction.

Just as confused as I was by my impromptu make out session with Eren, I understood it just as well. This was a date, after all; however, regardless of that - and this may sound incredibly open - but I almost felt as if Eren and I had reached a milestone in our relationship where this kind of thing just suddenly became natural, much like a reflex. He must have been itching to kiss me from the moment he'd caught me staring, just as I'd been craving the taste of his metallic tongue the moment I began to stare. It's funny, really. Neither of us said a single thing to each other, and yet, we were both feeling the same thing from the very start.

We were such idiots. Idiots...in love.

Digging his knees into my hips, Eren straddled my waist as he kissed me up and down. Starting from forehead, tracing down to the base of my neck, he left nothing unmarked, not a single space unloved. And God, did it feel amazing. Wordlessly cussing and breathlessly praising him left Eren with enough initiative to reclaim my lips yet again. He was so good at it, so damn good at kissing that it pissed me off. I wanted to rip him off of me and scold him for being such a natural, but what did I do? I let myself melt into the ground and drown in his kisses, feeling pampered in every way as his delicate hands rushed from my head to my heart.

He loved me. Eren loved me. There was no doubt in my mind, just his gestures alone were enough. Eren  _loved_ me.

And yet, in a blur of breathless bliss, Eren desperately broke his lips away from mine. I'd half-expected him to start hounding down on my neck, just liked he'd done in the late hours of that night we'd spent together, but he didn't. He remained stagnant, unmoving, huffing and puffing for air.

And then he said them. The words of my thoughts with a volume I could never produce. He'd spoken them softly, but confidently, full of emotion and, well...love.

"...I'm in love you, Levi."

Honestly, if you're going to say it like that, don't look like you're about to cry. You'll make me wanna comfort you for a feeling that doesn't need comforting.

And so, with a heavy sigh and heartfelt touch, I nudged the backs of my fingers along the daintiness of Eren's burning hot cheek. Also, if you're going to say something as big as a love confession, you're bound to want to hear a reply, right? Well, if it was a reply that Eren was waiting for, it was a reply he was gonna get.

Reaching around the back of his neck to pull his head down to my chest, I made sure to press his ear to my heart. And I had a purpose for doing that, of course. If Eren found any disbelief in what I was about to say, then maybe hearing just how much my body - my  _being_ \- already loved him would change his mind.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you, too, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> And there you have it! At long last, a love confession from these two dorks! And, you know, it only took 21 chapters, haha...haha... *cough*
> 
> Alright! In all seriousness, I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and so I hope that all of you enjoyed reading it, as well!
> 
> Also! On a side note, I feel like I never say this enough, but if you want to keep up with updates for this story and other things that I write, you can always follow my tumblr (kairixxxsora16)! I mostly reblog Eren/Levi, Attack on Titan, and DRAMAtical Murder stuff! (:
> 
> Anywho, as always, thank you for taking the time to read! I really always appreciate it!
> 
> \- Chappy


	22. Opaque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some masks are more opaque than others.

It's interesting how heavy the heart feels, when you know you've lost something. Be it a friend, a lover, or even your favourite sweater, there's that undefinable ache that only time can seem to mend, yet never quite heal. And then there's that feeling when you find something, anything, maybe even something you weren't even looking for in the first place; and all of a sudden, the heart has a way of feeling incredibly light. It soars among the clouds as your head begins to daydream, and you finally allow yourself to admit the one thing you never thought you would. You admit that you're in love.

And damn it, I was in love with Eren.

I'd been playing around the idea of falling in love with him for quite some time, and it's funny, but for a good portion of that misconception, I'm pretty sure that I was already in love with him. Hell, I should have taken the hint after he'd weaseled his way into one of my paintings, but of course I didn't, and I honestly don't know why. It wasn't like I was too prideful for love, or anything like that - I'm only human. I suppose it had something to do with our professional status, and maybe our age difference had a little something to do with it, as well. But in the end, I think it had a whole lot to do with Eren's atrocious attitude.

But that's the thing about people. Everyone's wearing a mask; some more opaque than others. They come in all different shapes and sizes, colors and brands. Some have been wearing their masks for the entirety of their lives, while others have picked them up and put them on along the way. And when you think about it, masks can cover all things, really: minor insecurities, a family secret that's been passed down for generations, or even a major flaw in someone's true nature.

Masks are what draw people in. They get others to look at you with fascination and fright, and in the end, it's up to the mask's wearer whether or not they will ever make their grand reveal by showing off their visage. Some will cave to this presentation quite easily, while others will never let anyone know what is truly underneath; and that's okay, I suppose...so long as the wearer can still determine the difference between what is the mask and what is their true face.

And as we laid there, beneath the fire-kissed leaves, sharing some more kisses of our own, Eren admitted that for a while, he'd forgotten what was true about himself and what was fabricated. Sure, his heartbreak allowed him to harvest some of his deepest desires of being a complete smart ass, but after time went on, he forgot who he was. Was he always this much of a smart ass, or was this just some annoying personality quirk he'd taken on to protect his healing heart? After deliberating over the answer for longer than he'd like to own up to, he told me that I was the reason he'd found himself again, and God, did that really make me feel good.

But as good as it made me feel, it was a feeling that came with its burdens. Eren didn't deserve this in his life. He didn't deserve the confusion, the unanswered questions; he didn't deserve any of it. What he deserved was to be loved and cherished for the freaking amazing kid he was, and damn it, if I had to be the one to do all of the cherishing, than I would be.

Sometime after our lips had gotten their fill, our hands became lazy and our bodies became bored. We'd taken to touching each other; nothing incredibly sexual, but definitely very sensual. Eren drew circles down my chest, while I played around with the back of his neck. It was because of this hands-on action that I'd discovered on of Eren's sweet spots. He'd only told me about his hips being his most sensitive area, but he failed to mention anything about his nape. Then again, maybe this was something we'd discovered together, because even Eren seemed pleasantly surprised by how incredible it felt to have my hands on his neck.

But of course, that wasn't the only discovery we'd made that night. Eren learned something about me that I really wished he hadn't.

As his hands slowly slid down my sides, seemingly hesitating around my ribcage, I unleashed the most embarrassing sound known to all of mankind: my laugh. It wasn't like the occasional scoff or the breathless chuckle that I'd exhibited in the past. No, no. This was something much worse. My laugh was like a chimera - an amalgamation of everything in one, obnoxious sound - and it was absolutely horrible. If Eren wanted to break up with me right then and there, I wouldn't have blamed him. Who'd want to date someone with the worst laugh in the entire universe?

But then, he did something entirely unexpected.

That little brat began to tickle me.

I tried my best, I really did, but no matter how much effort I put into holding down my diaphragm, I just couldn't contain myself. Eren had been doing it on purpose, and that pissed me off, but what pissed me off even more than that was that he'd begun to laugh along with me. And Hell, he had the laugh of an angel. God, I was just pissed off about everything.

By the time I'd finally wrestled him off of me, Eren and I were both so breathless that our chests were practically inflating to their fullest expanse just to filter a single drop of oxygen into our lungs. Eren was a lucky kid; he'd just killed two birds with one stone. He found out that I was embarrassingly ticklish, and that I had literally the worst laugh that he has probably heard in his entire life.

But Eren completely denied my allegation. He called my laugh cute, charming even, and he said that he wanted to hear more of it, not just when I'm being tickled (also, if Eren ever tried to tickle me again, I would end him). I told him that we would just have to wait and see about that, because honestly, if I did end up laughing like that again, I'd be more than amazed to know just what in the Hell was so damn funny.

It's crazy to think about it, but we'd spent another two or three hours just laying underneath that tree. I'm pretty sure Eren must have dozed off at one point, but then again, I'm pretty sure that I must have nodded off here and there, too. The atmosphere was simply too relaxing, it was like the sound of the wind and the leaves became our own, personal lullaby. The second time I was roused - or was it the fourth? - it was because a leaf had fallen against my cheek. It wasn't typical of me to jolt awake because of a simple touch, but for some reason, that leaf had really spooked me.

When I woke up, Eren was right there, kind of spooked himself. He had no idea what had made me jump as suddenly as I did. When we realized that the culprit had been a stupid leaf, Eren busted out laughing. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up now. I'd be sure to get my payback on him in some way or another.

As time carried on, we neglected our dating etiquette for the sake of curiosity. Eren checked his phone to see what time it was. Apparently, we'd stayed out in the meadow for a lot longer than I'd expected, because it was already 10:11PM. Figuring that we had about a ten-minute walk back to the car, and then another twenty minutes of driving back to the shop, we decided that we'd better get going. We'd have more dates, that was for sure, and who knows? Maybe this oak tree would end up becoming one of our favourite spots.

After folding up the blanket and saying farewell to one of the nicest evenings either of us had had in a long time, we piled ourselves into Eren's car and drove back to the shop. With his CHVRCHES CD still playing faintly over the radio speakers, it took everything in my power not to fall asleep during the drive. I needed to stay awake; I still had to drive home after this.

Well, no matter how much power I actually had, it was the iconic sound of tires running over gravel that stirred me into the conscious world. Eren took note of my awakening and said that he'd been just a turn away from taking me home with him. That was cute. He was probably worried about me falling asleep behind the wheel, or something.

Reassuring him about a million and one times that I was going to be fine and that I'd make it home safely, he let me go with the promise that I'd text him the second - not the minute, the  _second -_ that I'd walked through my apartment door. Fair enough.

And so, with our pinkyless promise in mind, we parted with a kiss that was far more innocent than we were and said our goodbyes. And that was that. The end to another, perfectly successful date with nothing but anticipation for the next one.

 

* * *

 

It would have been an absolute crime if I hadn't gotten some paint on my fingers after a night like that. I'd texted Eren first, of course, but after that, it was a fantastic free-for-all and I made love to another masterpiece. It'd been a while since I'd painted a landscape, but with visuals from our date still ripe in my mind, I gave into the sweet temptation of texturizing those amber leaves for everything that they were worth. Stroking symphonies and embracing emerald stars, by the time my painting was finished, the sun was already rising. It's amazing how common sleepless nights were becoming.

And I'd had many of them over the course of the next few weeks.

The Saturday following after our date underneath the oak tree, Eren and I strolled through the town after the shop had closed up for the night, just mindlessly wandering around for a spell, before heading back to my place to bump up the maturity of our evening. I still hadn't seen his place yet, but I wasn't too worried about something like that. After all, he had a roommate, and that roommate just so happened to hate my guts - okay, maybe that was a little harsh; he hated my organs.

By the time Thanksgiving break rolled around, Eren had spent a total of four whole nights over at my place, and on every single night except for the fourth, we'd slept on the floor. On the fourth night, we slept in my bed.

No one, and I repeat,  _no one_ but myself had ever slept in my bed before. And it wasn't like he'd been making a fuss about sleeping on the floor, or anything. I simply proposed the idea of it, and Eren simply accepted. Regardless, he had better count his blessings, because he was a lucky one, that was for sure.

And time sure seemed like an obscurity with how fast things were happening. It had been Halloween only yesterday, but in the blink of an eye, it was Thanksgiving. All I had to do next was turn around and it was already December. The most wonderful time of the year? Yeah, no. Try the  _weirdest_ time of the year.

I honestly don't know what possesses people to get holiday-themed tattoos, I really don't, but for some reason, every year, without a fail, I will get more than one request to tattoo something seasonal on someone's ass. Last year, my requests included Rudolph, a menorah, and a gingerbread cookie. I wonder what I'll be up against this year.

"Hey, Levi," Hanji said, grabbing my attention as I was in the middle of putting the finishing touches on a client's shading.

"Hmm?" I responded, the sound of my inquiry muffled through the thin cloth of my face mask.

"I think I just saw Eren's car pulling into the lot," she noted. "Did he have an appointment with you today? I could have sworn that his next session wasn't for another two more weeks."

Oh, no, Hanji was right about that. Eren's next removal session wasn't until the week before Christmas; we'd marked it on our schedule. What was he doing here now? Didn't he know better by now that I appreciated a call ahead of time? Ugh, some things can never be learned easily.

Apologizing to my client for the sudden interruption, I wiped away what was left of the smeared ink on his arm and peered over my shoulder to see if Hanji's eyes were being truthful to her today. And indeed they were. Just moments after I'd put a pause on my work, I saw Eren trotting up to the main entrance. And if his chipper attitude hadn't surprised me enough, what  _really_ surprised me was that he wasn't alone.

At a quick glance, I'd mistaken his tagalong for a girl. That was my bad, honestly. Maybe  _my_ eyes were the ones not being truthful today. Go figure, right?

With the clang of the overhead bell, in paraded Eren and his friend, both in high spirits and both seemingly very, very happy to see me.

"Hi, Levi!" Eren called out, although, when he realized that I was busy tending to a customer, his voice became a bit softer. "Oh, sorry," he apologized. "I probably should have called first." Yeah, probably.

"Hey there, Eren!" Hanji greeted him welcomingly, as she leaned across the front counter. "And who do we have here? A friend of yours?"

He nodded. "Yup! This is Armin. We were just on campus together, finishing up our final exam of the semester, so I figured I'd bring him with me to the shop! Plus, he's been kind of wanting to see the place ever since I've been coming here."

"Well, I certainly hope it meets your expectations, Armin!" Hanji giggled. I'd turned my attention back to my client, but from just her tone alone, I could tell that Hanji must have flashed the kid a salty wink.

"Oh, thank you! It really does! And thank you for having me, even though I came here without an invitation," Armin answered politely. Wow, compared to Eren, this kid wasn't half bad. An invitation to a tattoo shop? Honestly, this Armin must have come from a household of loving parents who taught him his manners, before they taught him his A, B, C's.

I heard what sounded like Eren's hand slapping against his friend's back, as he said, "Oh, come on now, Armin. Don't be all formal and stuff. Levi and Hanji are super chill! I'm sure they're more than happy to have the extra business."

"It's not business, if he's not planning on getting a tattoo," I muttered passive aggressively. My mumble earned a repressed chuckle from my client.

"What was that, Levi?" I could all but hear the smirk on Eren's lips. "I couldn't hear you over the buzz of the gun."

Deciding to have a little bit of fun with him, I used his very own statement to my advantage. "Hmm? What was that, Eren? I can't hear you over the buzz of the gun."

That totally got him to roll his eyes, I just know it.

As I was wiping away more of the smeared ink from my client's shading, I turned a quick eye at Eren's friend and gave him a nod. Pulling down my face mask, I said, "It's nice to meet you, Armin." Hey, I could be rude to Eren all I wanted, but I wasn't about to be rude to his best friend. That's right. I remembered that Armin was the name of Eren's best friend, so this must have been him, huh? Not what I was expecting, yet I was somehow satisfied. Armin seemed like a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. Hopefully he knew how to keep Eren in his place, when I wasn't around.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Levi, sir!" The kid looked like he was about to jump out of his skin when I'd addressed him, and now that he was actually talking to me, he sounded like he was choking on cotton balls. Honestly, there was no need for him to be so skittish. Sure, my appearance was intimidating as Hell, but I'd greeting him nicely, hadn't I? Then again, maybe I'd glared at him accidentally without realizing it. Oops.

"Hey, hey," I sighed, pulling my face mask back up again, "I may be turning thirty-one soon, but I'm certainly not ready to be called 'sir' by anyone just yet. Just call me Levi like everybody else."

Sounding like he was about to suffocate on his own spit, Armin stammered, "Oh, um! Yes, sir- I mean! Yes, Levi!"

Wow. Okay. Well, after that dramatic display was over, I was a little more than curious to know how such a delicate flower like Armin had become best friends with a feisty boy like Eren. I guess that would have to be a story for another time, because just as I was about to ask, Eren interrupted me with a question of his own.

"Hey, what do you mean you're turning thirty-one soon?" he wondered. "When's your birthday?"

It was a bit comical how we knew so many random elements about each other, and yet, birthdays had never been a part of any of our discussions. Oh, well. There was no harm in telling him now.

"December 25th."

"Oh, that's- Hey! Wait a minute! That's Christmas!"

Ah, yes. Thank you, Sherlock. I would have never guessed.

And I hear it all the time, too. Whenever I somehow mention that my birthday is on the 25th, everyone jumps out of their seat to say, "Oh, my God! That's on Christmas Day!" like I somehow don't already know that for myself. But that's not the only response that comes out of people. Sometimes, it's the starry-eyed, "Oh, wow! That's so cool! I wish my birthday was on Christmas!" And sometimes, it's the pitied pout of, "Oh, man. That must really suck! All of your Christmas presents must be combined with your birthday presents. You're totally getting gypped!"

As much as I'd love for these always expected statements to stay silent rather than being spoken, I've come to tolerate them more and more with each passing year; in fact, it's kind of fun telling people when my birthday is, because I just  _know_ what they're going to say, and I always have the perfect response for it.

"Yes. Yes, it is," I said, as I nodded.

"Holy crap, that's wicked cool!"

That perfect response I was talking about? Well, here it is:

"I'm Jewish."

Yup. And that gets 'em quiet every time.

I had to stop my shading job on my client, after he'd started laughing again. Huh, that was the second time I'd amused him. I must have been on a roll today.

At a momentary loss of words, Eren seemed to be stumbling over his pierced tongue as he tried to come up with some sort of clever response to go along with my statement. "Well, uh, I mean, that's cool and all, too, you know. Like, super cool. Being Jewish is, like, so cool." Nailed it.

Even Hanji couldn't contain her laughter anymore. She was giggling up a storm behind the front counter, trying to, at the very least, muffle the sound of it by cupping her hand over her mouth. It never worked out the way she wanted it to, so I honestly don't even know why she tried.

Oh, well. With all of that nonsense out of the way, I had to wonder why Eren had even come here in the first place. We'd already been over the fact that his appointment wasn't today, or tomorrow, or even the next day, so why had he graced both Hanji and I - as well as my lovely customer - with his presence?

"So, uh, not to be frank with you," I spoke through the muffle of my mask, "but I'm going to be frank with you: why are you here, Eren and friend?"

Ripping himself out of his minor streak of embarrassment, Eren had one of those "oh, yeah" moments, as he remembered, "Oh, yeah! That's right! I came here to ask you something, but I can wait until you're done. I really am sorry to have barged in like this." Yeah, like Hell he was.

"Oh, Eren," Hanji piped up. I could hear her high-heeled boots clacking against the lenolium floor tiles, as she made her way around the front counter to properly warm herself up to the two boys. "There's no need to apologize, you know we love having you here! It almost seems like the whole shop just has a way of lighting up, when you're inside of it!"

That's Hanji for you. Always the flatterer.

As she ushered the boys further into the shop, I could hear her making idle chitchat with the both of them about their plans for the holidays and whatnot. Eren mentioned something about going to visit his Dad for the New Year, and Armin spoke about how his parents were expecting him back at home. Ah, college life. I couldn't be happier about not having to deal with all of that back and forth, campus crap anymore. It wasn't worth the effort, nor was it worth my precious gasoline.

While the three of them continued to talk amongst themselves, I'd managed to finally finish up the shading on my client's tattoo. It was a relief not only for me, but for him as well. I'd been scraping at his arm for the past two hours or so, so I could only imagine that he must have been happy to see that I was done; and hopefully he'd be happy with the end result, as well, which thankfully, he was.

After cleaning him up and taking him over to the front counter to receive his payment, I'd noticed that Hanji had taken Eren and Armin into the back room. Maybe she was showing them some of our rejected sketches, or maybe she was making them a cup of coffee - who knows. I wouldn't, until I was totally done tending to my customer.

With a curt wave and a brief exchange of formalities, my customer was gone and Hanji had returned from the back room with her little troop in tow. It was almost ridiculous how much those two looked like little ducklings, when they were standing beside her. "Oh, would you look at that! Perfect timing!" she remarked. "Now we can all hear this big question that Eren wants to ask you, Levi!"

Oh, yeah, that's right. Eren did have something he wanted to ask me, didn't he? Well, alright then.

"Yeah. Go ahead and say it, kid."

Scratching at the back of his neck, the once boisterous Eren had suddenly become the fragile, speechless Eren. It was amazing how he could go from one to the other in the bat of an eyelash. "Well, you see," he began softly, "there's this thing at my college that's coming up soon. It's like, kind of a big deal, actually. They call it the 'Artist Bizarre', and it's basically just this really huge showcase of everyone's artwork and photography and things like that. Like I said, it's kind of a big deal, because the artist who gets the most thumb tacks stuck beneath their artwork wins a monetary prize and a recommendation for an apprenticeship in the field of their trade. It's really cool, and I've been attending it every year that I've been taking classes there, so, anyway... I guess all of this explaining and whatnot is just my really roundabout way of asking you, you know...if you'd like to go with me to the Bizarre."

Huh. Well, what do you know? With the way Eren spoke so highly of this event, it really  _did_  sound like a big deal. But it left me wondering the more than obvious question, at this point. "Do you have anything that's going to be displayed in the showcase?"

For a moment, Eren's eyes flickered with slight remorse, before he was back to being his sheepish self again. "Well, you see, I really wanted to participate, but as you know, some things came up and I had to revoke my application. But it's okay! The Artist Bizarre happens once during each semester, so I'll just try again in the spring!"

Now, I hadn't the faintest clue of what "things" Eren was talking about. It couldn't have been his schoolwork, because if that had been the case, no one would have been able to participate. But then it hit me. Those pictures. The pictures that Eren had spent so much time taking for me to paint for him. He was only doing it in order to make  _my_ dream come true, and yet, he was giving up one of his in the process. Damn it, now I felt just plain old rotten.

Pushing the topic just a little bit further, Eren naturally cupped his hands behind his back as he began to sway to and fro on his heels. He was waiting for my answer, but at the same time, he was also trying to pry it from my lips. "You haven't really answered my question yet, Levi," he realized. "But you know, the Bizarre isn't for another three weeks, so you can definitely plan around it if you have to. So..." And there it was. There it freaking was. That trademark, tender look with those, oh, so tender sunrise eyes, practically begging me to answer him with the words that I knew he was simply dying to hear.

Ugh. And how could I say no to that face? I would have to be heartless, especially after all that he's sacrificed because of me.

"Alright, fine," I sighed. "I'll go with you to the Bizarre."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> And Happy Hanukkah, everyone! If any of you happen to be celebrating the holiday, I hope that you're having a lovely time and that you're enjoying yourselves! (:
> 
> With so many holidays happening all at once and so much hustle and bustle keeping my head spinning, it truly pains me to say this, but I have an important announcement to make: Chapter 23 of "Temporary Mistake, Permanent Fix" will be delayed until January 2nd, meaning that I'm planning on taking just about two weeks off from updating this fanfic to relax as much as I can and enjoy the holiday season. And honestly, I hope that all of you intend on doing the same!
> 
> Again, I feel deeply apologetic that I have to do this to you guys, but look at it this way! Wouldn't you rather have a new chapter written by a calm and refreshed author, instead of a frantically written chapter by a frazzled and stressed author? I think the answer should speak for itself, hopefully! (:
> 
> Anywho, that was way too much rambling from me, but from the bottom of my heart, I hope that all of you have a very happy and healthy holiday season, as well as a relaxed and restful New Year! Thank you so much for your continued support and dedication to this story, I honestly can't thank you all enough!
> 
> And as my trademark goes, thank you all so very much for taking the time to read! I always, always appreciate it!
> 
> See you all next year! (:
> 
> \- Chappy


	23. Beige

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The robust scent of cinnamon and the sweet smell of vanilla.

You know that the summer season is ending when flip flops are half-priced and the shelves of cargo shorts are being replaced with stacks upon stacks of jeans. You know that Halloween is just around the corner when princess dresses and superhero capes aren't an uncommon sight to see in store windows. But forget Thanksgiving and forget any other holiday that holds any sort of relevance, because once November hits, you know - and God do you  _know -_ that the Christmas season is here.

The lights, the sounds, the scenery - it's  _everywhere_. You're pumping gas, and you hear  _Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer_ playing softly in the distance. You're purchasing your groceries, and your cashier wishes you a "Merry Christmas" instead of saying "Happy Holidays." And then you're walking through the halls of your apartment complex, the one place where you feel safe and sheltered from the holiday season, and then you see it. Your neighbors. Not your immediate neighbors, but the ones who live a couple of doorways down. You hardly ever see them, because your work hours always seem to conflict with one another. But it's a late afternoon on a Saturday, and your paths finally cross. There they are, lugging in the biggest freaking Christmas tree you're sure your eyes have ever seen. You can't even be upset with them for dragging in all of those branches and pine needles, leaving a little trail of festivity up and down the stairs. In fact, you can't even be upset at all. You're only impressed, more impressed than you've ever been before.

Your neighbors just spent the past half of an hour carrying a hundred-pound tree up three flights of concrete stairs, just so that they could light it up, put presents underneath it, and wait for it to die. That takes some unadulterated determination.

If I'm being completely honest with myself, I don't hate Christmas. I may be Jewish, but I'm not a Scrooge. I like what the holiday season does to people. It makes them nicer, happier, even when they have nothing to be happy about. It's just the season in itself that causes people to smile. So yeah, while I'm lighting up my menorah and spinning my dreidel, I wouldn't mind having three different renditions of  _White Christmas_ playing in the background; that is, if I even did any of that nonsense in the first place.

I can't even remember the last time I'd lit a menorah, or even celebrated Hanukkah for that matter. It must have been when I was kid, and even then, there was never such a thing a "lighting" the menorah with a flame. We'd always had one of those electronic ones, where you would just flip on a switch and boom - your candle for the night was lit. I would have gotten one of those for my apartment even now, but I just didn't see the point in it. Like I said, I can't even remember the last time I'd celebrated Hanukkah.

Enough about that, though. Hanukkah. Christmas. No more. From the moment I'd woken up that morning, to the second I'd stepped out the front door, my focuses were set on the one and only place that I could always count on to be 100% holiday-free; and that was my tattoo shop.

It was hard to believe that this was already Eren's fifth tattoo removal session with me. During his last appointment, he'd been moved to tears by the fact that the dense ink of that atrocious horse was finally starting to break. I couldn't have been happier for him, really. Even though, in the beginning of it all, Eren's request had gone against everything I believed in as an artist - and as a human being - I found it interesting how it was quite the opposite now. While I would never perform a tattoo removal on anyone other than Eren, the times when I would just sit there with him, wiping away his past and shedding a whole new light onto his future, those were some of my fondest moments as a tattoo artist; and Hell, I've been doing this stuff for a long time.

Maybe it was the fact that I knew how much it meant to him that made me feel so satisfied. Every time Eren came sauntering into my shop with his Godawful fashion sense and his piss-poor attitude, I couldn't deny the excitement that began to bubble within my chest. Every session was just one step closer toward his tattoo being completely gone. It was an achievement, of course, but thinking of such a thing led me to wonder something else. What would Eren do once his tattoo  _was_ gone? It was a notion that crossed my mind each of the times I had worked on him, but for whatever reason, I'd never really asked him what his plans were. His appointments would end and his visits to the shop would become lesser and lesser, wouldn't they? Well, if that was the case, there was nothing I could do about it.

I simply had to hold faith that we would remain a constant in each other's lives.

With the newest batch of painted photographs tucked neatly beneath my arm as I made my way to my car, I had to wonder why Eren had really gone all-out on this most recent excursion. From what I could remember from our previous art swaps, Eren had averaged somewhere around forty to fifty pictures each time; this photo dump had to have consisted of almost two-hundred. Because of such a vast amount of work that needed to be done, I'd ended up pushing back appointments with a few of my other clients just so that I could pull all-nighters to paint the damn things.

But I knew better than to complain. After all, it was because of me and because of my stupid wish that Eren had to withdraw from the Artist Bizarre.

Well, he hadn't officially confirmed or denied that that had been the reasoning behind his withdrawal, and I knew that if I had asked him about it, he would have made up some lie about something or other being the "real" reason, so I'd avoided the topic altogether. Regardless of it all, if Eren had worked this hard just for me, he'd better be damn sure that I was going to do my best for him, too - hence the ten-plus all-nighters I must have painfully endured throughout the course of the month.

After getting into my car and jumping life into the engine, I set the - count 'em - one, two, three manila envelopes down onto the passenger's seat and turned on the radio. Before Mariah Carey could even tell me all she wanted for Christmas, I'd switched the radio settings from FM to CD. Instant relief washed over my eardrums when the tune of an upbeat song began to play. After one of our stay-home dates from before Thanksgiving, Eren had let me borrow a few of his CDs to see if he could get his eccentric taste in music to rub off of me. I'd warned him that it was never going to work, but there I was, pulling out of my apartment's main lot, tapping my thumbs to the beat of the bass.

It may have been 3:34 in the afternoon, but no time was a bad time for a coffee break.

I'd called Hanji the night before to give her a heads up about my impending tardiness. It was forty minutes past midnight, I hadn't managed a blink of sleep since God knows when, and I still had twenty-some photographs left to paint. She was understanding, albeit groggy, and told me that she would handle my clients if it came down to that - which, judging by the time, it did.

There was a sense of guilt in my decision to stop for coffee before heading straight to work, but hey, would Hanji rather I be a sluggish nightmare, or an actual, functional human being? I think the answer to that question speaks for itself.

While the world seemed to start celebrating Christmas the day after Halloween, it wasn't until just last week that my favourite coffee shop had started setting up for the holidays. They may have been late by worldly standards, but by my standards, they were right on time.

Stepping through the front doors of the shop, no matter how frequent, was always a brand-new experience. Based on the drink of the day, my nose had the option of being assaulted by the robust scent of cinnamon, or soothed by the sweet smell of vanilla. Judging by the sharp fragrance that wafted through the air, today's top drink must have had something to do with cinnamon.

Upon my entry, Petra, who must have been working on some of the pastries in the back room, came rushing to the front counter. Donned with her perky, light-up antlers and her glitzy Christmas apron, she welcomed me warmly and started making my usual order right away.

"Actually, Petra," I spoke up, stopping her from doing anything further. "I'll have the drink of the day today. Whatever it is, it smells pretty damn good."

"Oh, alright!" Smiling tenderly, she threw away the cup that she had already started filling up with dark roast and explained, "The drink of the day is a spicy blend of cinnamon chai and roasted chestnut, dark coffee. It hasn't been as popular as our lighter blends, but seeing as you favor our darker roasts anyway, I think you might like it!"

That was Petra for you. Always positive and enthusiastic about her coffee blends. We were a lot alike, in that way - both doing what we loved for a living, and both finding a way to cope with the inevitable negativity.

When she'd finished my drink, she set aside a small cinnamon bun that had seemingly just come out of the oven. Packing it away in a beige little box, Petra said, "This type of drink goes very nicely with a small snack, so feel free to take it! It's on me!"

There was no way I could let her do that. I'd mentioned earlier that the holidays generally made people act a lot nicer toward one another, but Petra was simply an angel all-year round. And because of that, whatever she'd subtracted from my overall total, I'd paid her in tips.

Taking my drink and my cinnamon roll back to my car, I'd nearly spilled everything when the unexpected vibration from my cell phone began to buzz in my back pocket.

Now, listen. It is one of my greatest pet peeves whenever someone sets their coffee, tea, hot beverage, or what-have-you on the roof of their car, and although I'd sworn to never become one of those people who resort to such a measures, I would have much rather set everything down and answered my phone before it buzzed my butt off.

I didn't really bother to see who was calling, before I'd already swiped my finger across the display screen and pressed my phone to my ear. I tried not to sound too irritated, when I answered, "Hello?"

"Hey, Levi." It was Hanji's voice. Couldn't whatever she had to say have waited until I made it to the shop? Then again, she had no idea that I'd already been on my way. "I'm sorry to call you like this, but I have some bad news."

Okay, here's the deal. No news is good news when Hanji is the one telling you. Bad news? Hell, bad news was ten times worse.

Preparing myself for the worst - the worst being that one time she had nearly burnt down the shop, because of that stupid coffee pot (and no, I would never let her live that down) - I breathed in a lungful of frosty air, before asking, "What is it?"

"Eren just called the shop maybe four or five minutes ago. He sounded like he was sick, but he didn't really specify what was wrong with him. All he said was that he wouldn't be able to make it to his appointment tonight, and before I could ask him if he wanted to reschedule, he hung up."

Um, what the Hell? That type of attitude didn't sound like Eren at all. And don't get me wrong, I know that boy has an attitude, but when it comes to Hanji, he's usually as polite as he can manage to be.

Trying to make sense of Eren's sudden cancelation, I unlocked my car door, wedged my cell phone between my ear and my shoulder, and grabbed my goodies from the car roof. "He didn't say anything else other than that? Just that he wasn't coming?"

I heard Hanji sigh on the other end. "Yeah, pretty much." There was a small pause, before she continued her thought. "I don't know, Levi. I'm kind of worried about him. But you know, what confuses me the most about all of this is that he called the shop..."

She had a point. If anything, why wouldn't've Eren just called me personally? We're not phone-strangers; Hell, we're practically phone-lovers. In the end, what Hanji was confused about was just as confusing to me.

Feeling perturbed, and quite frankly, a little pissed off, I took a sip from my to-go cup and was sent to Heaven for just a second. "Has the shop been busy today?" I wondered.

Hanji sounded a bit taken aback by my sudden subject change, but she answered me all the same. "No, not at all. Actually, two out of our five scheduled clients called in sick, and well, Eren makes three."

"Did we have anymore appointments scheduled after Eren's?"

Even though Hanji knew our schedules by heart, I could still hear her flipping through the papers just to double check. "Hmm...nope! Eren was our last appointment. Why?"

With another sip from my cup of liquified bliss, I revved up my engine for the second time that afternoon and said, "I want you to lock up the shop early tonight. I'm going to Eren's apartment."

Before Hanji could protest my decision, I hung up on her and tossed my phone over and on top of where all of my manila envelopes laid. I could feel the temptation to take another sip from my drink as it began to rise, but it was a temptation that I pushed past.

I had to get to Eren's place to see what the Hell his problem was.

 

* * *

 

I shut off Eren's CD immediately as it began to play its happy little tunes. Music had only become a distraction at this point. As for right now, I had to focus on figuring out just how in the world I was going to find my way to where Eren lived. He'd given me the directions over the phone once, in case of any sort of emergency, and while this wasn't exactly one of those "emergencies", it was an instance enough to put my memory to good use.

From what I could remember, Eren mentioned not living too far away from my shop; actually, he lived closer to it than I did. He'd also mentioned something about taking a left at one of the old STOP signs, the one that looks like more of a S OP sign than anything else.

As I continued to drive, cursing at every red light, my mind chose to take me to darker places. In a matter of less than an hour, I'd gone from questioning nothing about my relationship with Eren, to questioning everything. Was it because of all of the photographs that he had taken that caused him to cancel? Had he overworked himself so much that he'd begun feeling resentment toward me? Resentment for making him give up on his chance at the Artist Bizarre? If that was his problem, then he could have just stopped taking those damn pictures months ago. I'd never asked for him to start doing that in the first place. And yeah, it was fun getting to put my theoretical mark all over the town, but where was the  _real_ fun if it was at his expense?

God, I just wanted to know what was wrong with him.

Instead of swearing at the next standing green light that  _just so happened_  to turn red when I'd pulled up to it, I just sat there. I sat there, tapped my thumbs against the steering wheel, and began to laugh. I was being ridiculous, wasn't I? There I was, being all pissed off like some spoiled brat who didn't get their way, and for what? Because I was confused? Because something didn't make sense to me? Honestly, my emotions were so all over the place that it was hilarious. Being in love really makes you do strange things, doesn't it?

For the rest of the drive to Eren's apartment, I managed to keep a cool head and a chilled temper. I told myself that if I went to the direct source of my concerns, I would find all of the answers that I was looking for, so really, there was no sense in acting senseless.

And speaking of sense, it wouldn't have made much sense if I didn't get lost on at least one of the turns on the way to Eren's apartment, right? Of course not. So, yeah. I got lost. Big deal. I turned around and all was well again.

When I drove up to where I expected there to be a parking lot to the apartment complexes where Eren had told me he'd lived, I was surprised to see a parking garage instead. Weren't the kinds of apartments that had garages instead of lots, I don't know, kind of upscale? Just one more thing to add onto my list of things that didn't make sense: a college undergrad paying the rent for an apartment that was better than mine.

Driving through the rundown garage - seeing that it was in such a poor state of being made me feel better about myself - I ended up having to park on the third level, even though I remembered Eren telling me that his apartment was on the second floor. What number did he live in again? Was it 212? 213? Well, we'd just have to wait and see.

I felt like a damn delivery man, as I made my way into the garage's elevator with my right arm full of envelopes, and the cinnamon bun box tucked under my left; my drink being in that hand, as well. Pressing the button for the second floor, I prayed that the elevator to be empty upon my entry, but of course, my prayers were not answered.

Inside of the elevator just had to have been a lovely little family consisting of a sleep-deprived mother and three rambunctious children, all who were making their grand descent to the second floor as well. Perfect.

That cramped elevator ride had to have been the least pleasant thing I'd had to deal with since the stomach flu of '09. And who knows? With the way one of those kids was hacking up a lung next to my leg, I may have just signed my soul away to another strain of 24-hours of misery.

Booking it past the elevator's doors the second they'd opened, I rushed down so quickly that I'd nearly walked past Eren's door - or at least, I thought that one was his door.

Rapping the only free fist I had against the door that had a small "212" sign plastered to the right of it, I waited a good minute or so, before I heard any indication of movement on the other side. With the way my luck was going today, I placed my bets on Eren's roommate being the one to open the door instead of Eren.

But from the sound of socked feet, to a muffled, "Hold on a second," I knew that my bets had been wrong. That had been Eren's voice on the other side, and it had been Eren who - after a minute and some odd number of seconds - had opened the door.

A sketch of pure shock penciled itself across Eren's face, as he realized just who it was who had been knocking at his front door. His mouth had dropped agape, and his eyes had widened to the point where the scleras outmatched the irises. But before I let him start asking the number of questions that I  _knew_ were on his mind, he had to answer a few of my own first.

"Why did you cancel your appointment today?"

Still standing in his state of shock, I figured that if I wanted to get any viable response out of that kid, I was going to have to pry it out of him. With an irritated snap of my fingers, I had all to do to stop myself from tapping my foot as well, as I repeated my question: now with the added bonus of emphasis. " _Why_   _did you cancel your appointment today?_ "

"I-I..." Eren stammered, still looking me up and down to see if this was really happening and if I was really standing there. Um, yes. This was really happening, and yes, I was really standing there. "...I'm sick."

"That's a load of BS, and you know it," I said, with a sigh. Pushing the weight of those manila envelopes into Eren's chest to knock some air out of him, I did some more pushing myself as I pushed my way into his apartment. As expected of any college student's living arrangement, it was messy and smelled like desperation.

Fumbling to keep a hold of the envelopes I'd handed to him, Eren quickly closed the door and rushed inside after me. As he did so, I continued to survey the expanse of his apartment, and as such, I continued to feel even better about my own. The place was a dump. It was no wonder Eren had never invited me over - coming to my place must have been like a mini-vacation for him.

"Levi, why did you-?"

"Hey." Turning on my heel to face him, I held a finger up. Luckily, the action had silenced him immediately. "You didn't answer my question yet, so start talking."

"I-I did, though," Eren muttered. "I told you that I'm sick."

"And  _I_ told  _you_ that that's a load of BS, so now I want you to tell me the  _real_  reason why you're not coming today."

I had all of the time in the world, but what I didn't have time for were Eren's mind games. Now that I'd seen him in person, I could rightfully tell that he was in perfect health. The reason behind his cancelation had to have been something deeper.

Eren remained silent for much longer than I would have appreciated, but the more I thought about it, the more his demeanor made sense to me. There wasn't something wrong with  _us_  - there was something wrong with  _him_. Something - I hadn't the faintest clue as to what - was holding him back from telling me what his problem was, because it must have been something that even  _he_ didn't want to say.

However, my patience was already wearing very thin.

"Eren, you do realize that you've told me far more than I needed to know about you on only our first date, right? Whatever it is that's bothering you, you should know by now that it's okay to tell me." Maybe speaking rationally with him would get him to open up, or at least, that's what I'd been hoping for. God, I just couldn't take not knowing what was wrong with him.

Thankfully, it had worked to some degree, but not as much as I would have liked it to. Still stumbling over his words, Eren began to clutch at the envelopes that he held to his chest, as he said, "I know, and I'm sorry for suddenly canceling on you like that, it's just..."

It was just...what? What was it? And, you know, if he was so sorry for canceling his appointment, he wouldn't have canceled it in the first place, now would he? These sessions were all per Eren's original request of having his tattoo removed for good; I had nothing to do with the initiation of them.

With a bit more prying and lot more waiting, I was almost at the point where I just wanted to grab Eren by his shoulders and shake the answers out of him, but luckily, it didn't have to resort to that. No, it didn't have to resort to that at all.

There was only one other time when I had seen Eren's amber eyes boast such a somber serenity to them. That time had been on a end-of-summer's night, well after the shop had been closed up for the evening and he had just finished pouring his heart out to me. Me. A man no more than a tattoo artist with a tattoo shop at the time.

"Jean called me last night," he whispered wistfully, refusing to meet my gaze. "He and Marco broke up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> And I'm back from my mini-break from writing! I hope you all had a lovely time during your holidays and didn't miss me too much, haha!
> 
> And goodness, what kind of writer would I be if I didn't give you all a little present after the holiday season, hm? (Spoiler: Your present is having to deal with a cliffhanger.)
> 
> Alright, enough of that! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, because I certainly had a blast writing for it!
> 
> And of course, as always, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	24. Turquoise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain leads to lack of rationality and loss of reason.

There are certain feelings a human will never quite understand until they have been intimately, romantically, or just plain involved with another person - and one of those feelings is pain. It's not the physical kind of pain that you acquire from a scraped knee or a broken bone. It's a pain that festers from within, seeping into all of your most vulnerable areas where it begins to take control. Rationality and reason are lost somewhere in the mix, giving exposure to the dangers of negligence and isolation.

Pain is a problem, and I could simply tell from the hardened hue of Eren's gaze that he had just endured a whole lot of it.

Jean and Marco had just broken up. These were the two men in Eren's life that had caused him the most pain, and they were at it again; but this time, I couldn't seem to wrap my head around as to why. What did it matter if they had broken up or not? That was their problem, not his. Unless...that phone call from Jean had packed more of a punch than he was initially leading on.

Should we have sat down before we delved into this conversation? Probably. But I was already to confused about the whole damn thing to think rationally myself.

"And...how is that your problem exactly?" I could have phrased that better. It wasn't until the words were out and in the open air that I realized I probably  _should_ have phrased it better, but it was too late for that now. Oops.

Holding on for Eren's reaction, I watched as his earnest eyes wavered from mine, before dropping guiltily to the floor. That wasn't a look I liked to see, especially not after the kind of question I'd just asked.

"Because he..." Eren said hesitantly, almost not entirely certain of the situation himself. "...He apologized to me."

Wait. Hold on. Take a step back and pause. Jean, the same Jean who had never found any fault in his actions, nor had he ever seen a reason to be sorry for them, had  _apologized_? This was the same Jean, the Jean who had been sleeping with another man for over a year - whilst fully involved with Eren as well - and somehow felt the need to record their horrendous hanky-panky sessions on  _Eren's_ camera? Jean, the same Jean who had probably never uttered the words "I'm sorry" before in his life, and yet, after going through the same pain that Eren had to endure all by himself, had suddenly seen the light of sympathy?

Well, good for him. Give him a golden star, why don't you? It's not like he even deserves it anyway.

"Huh." A rhetorical statement more than anything, but even more than that, it was just a breath. Be it of amusement or of disbelief, I just couldn't seem to tell.

From what I could gather so far, it would seem that Eren had received a phone call from Jean last night - let's say around the midnight hour - and had been informed that he and Marco had broken up. Why? I wasn't all that sure, but I did have some rather educated guesses stuffed up my sleeve. And on top of all of this glamorous, gossipy garbage laid a little apology, an "I'm sorry" that should have been spoken many months ago.

Okay. Now was probably a better time than any to sit down and sort this whole thing out piece by piece, bit by bit.

Eren's apartment only had one sofa, which was typical of a living space for no more than two people, but it was a bit inconvenient for a face-to-face conversation. If I wanted to talk to Eren and actually look at his face while doing so, I had one of two options. I could either turn my body toward him like a doting mother-figure who was just a breath away from consoling a distraught child, or I could take a seat on his low-set coffee table and look at him that way. So what did I do? Well, let's just say I wasn't about to treat Eren like a little duckling. He may have been a "kid" by nature, but he was a man by law and he deserved to be treated in such a respect.

My elbows dug into my knees, as my palms cupped my chin in expectation. By that was pointless, and I knew it. Eren wasn't going to speak up unless I prompted him to do so.

"I want you to start from the beginning. Tell me everything that happened from the moment you got that phone call, to the second to decided to cancel your appointment with me."

I knew that I was dealing with roughly sixteen hours of complicated content, but none of that mattered to me. What mattered was Eren's state of well-being and that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

As Eren shifted about to take his seat on the sofa, I could practically feel the tension begin to rise. Whether it was tension between the two of us, or just tension in general, it caused Eren to fidget and fumble with his words. "Well," he began slowly, "I guess it kind of all started while I was getting ready for bed last night. I was brushing my teeth, or whatever, and I could hear my cell phone ringing in the other room, but I didn't bother to check it until after I was done. Just as I was scrolling through my missed calls - there were three of them, by the way, but I didn't recognize the number. Anyway, as I was scrolling through my missed calls, the same number that had called me three times before started calling me again, and you know, without really thinking much of it, I answered it."

Inhaling a deep breath, in and out, he continued, "It was Jean. On the other line, I could hear Jean's voice. He sounded distant, almost like he was whispering or couldn't really bear to speak any louder than he was, but I knew it was him. It  _had_ to be him. There is no one else on this planet who would answer to a simple 'Hello?' with the words 'Hey there, kitten.'"

Oh, God. Not those damn pet names again. I'd thought we'd moved past them forever, but apparently not.

Regardless of my blatant disgust, I chose to let Eren continue on without interruption. Hearing that name must have been just as repulsive for him as it was for me.

"At first, you know," he spoke thoughtfully, looking toward the ceiling with fragile amusement, "at first, I'd thought that it had to have been some kind of joke, right? There was no way Jean would be calling me. I'd made it very clear to him that after we broke up, I wanted no ties to him whatsoever. I didn't want to him to call me, text me, e-mail, just - I didn't want him in my life at all. It was my way of telling myself that the more I cut him out of my everyday routine, the more my life would slowly return to normal. I'd justified that thinking for the longest time, so much so that I didn't even need to justify it anymore because it had actually happened. The more I cut him out, the more his memory began to fade, to the point where I wasn't even thinking about him anymore. Jean? Who's that? Oh, right, right.  _Jean_. But just when I had everything good going for me in my life, he had to weasel his way back in."

Frustrated and a bit frazzled, Eren groaned. Pushing his face into his hands, he roughhoused with his hair, before regaining his composure. I felt bad for him, I honestly did. In fact, seeing him this way made me feel a bit bitter for ever being pissed at him in the first place. He obviously had a lot on his mind that needed figuring out.

"I was so close to hanging up, when I knew that it was him," I heard him say next. "I was already pulling my phone away from my ear and getting ready to swipe my finger over that 'end call' button, but then I heard him speak again. I didn't really hear what he'd said, but his tone of voice was enough to have me putting that stupid phone against my ear again."

After lifting his head from his hands, Eren offered me a look that I hadn't quite seen on his face before. I'd seen in on other faces for sure, but on him, it just didn't quite seem to fit. It was a look of emptiness with a hint of empathy that had me wondering where the rest of this retold story was heading.

"He'd been crying. He didn't admit to it, of course, and I didn't feel like asking him about it, but I could tell that he'd been crying. Anyway, that's when his whole spiel started. He asked me how I'd been, how school was going, if I'd gotten hired for any photography gigs lately, all of which I'd declined giving him answers to. Honestly, just hearing the sound of his voice was making my head hurt so much that I just wanted him to tell me what he wanted so that I could hang up and never hear from him again. Tch. Yeah, but life's not that easy, so I've learned."

"That's when he told you about Marco, isn't it?" I liked keeping my vocal involvement in our conversation to a minimum, just as I did when Eren had been introducing me to the whole concept of his past relationship in the first place. I feel like Eren appreciates it more that way, and I personally feel more respectful of his emotions.

He nodded slowly, still holding onto his head. "Yeah, kind of. I mean, it didn't happen right away from what I can remember, but yeah. The next thing that really stood out was when he'd told me that he and Marco just finished breaking up."

Eren bit his lip. I'd initially thought that he'd done so to repress some sort of sadness that must have been circulating from within, but no. I was wrong. I was wronger than wrong.

He laughed. Yup. Eren began to laugh. He let out a big ole holler of hilarity as he threw his head back and out of his hands, nearly startling the living daylights out of me, because seriously, what the Hell was that for? What had just happened there? Was there a piece to the puzzle that I was missing, because I was pretty sure that just two seconds ago, Eren had been giving me a look that had me naming him next to broken.

"This is...this is seriously my favourite part out of all that had happened last night, Levi," Eren snickered, still needing a second or two to pull himself back together after that unexpected outburst. "Okay, okay. Phew. Sorry about that. Alright."

Resting his hands on the back of his neck, Eren sighed almost dreamily as he gazed up toward the ceiling one more. He looked pretty dashing for someone who was wearing a turquoise hoodie and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, but then again, fashion had never been Eren's forte.

"You know," he started up again, this time a lot more confidently, "I guess I'd never really believed in karma before last night. The whole 'good things happen to good people; bad things happen to bad people', it just never really seemed to make much sense to me. Well, as it turns out, bad things  _can_ and  _do_  happen to bad people."

You'd never really think of comparing a sound to a taste, would you? Ah, yes. That music is like bitterness of brussels sprouts. Hearing her voice was as vivacious as vanilla. See? I doesn't really work. However, after hearing Eren's little laugh this time around, I just couldn't help myself from using a savory word as its descriptor.

Salty. Eren's laugh had definitely sounded salty.

Now, it didn't actually  _sound_ like salt, but it sure as Hell reminded me of it. Just seeing the way Eren's tongue had swiped at the corner of his lip to give it a little lick, I knew that behind that spicy sound was a treasure waiting to be told.

"And why is that, Eren?" I couldn't deny it. After seeing Eren dealing with so much dismay, it was a relief to know that there was at least a little bit of light at the end of this horribly dark tunnel. And well, maybe "a little bit of light" was  _a little bit_ of an understatement, because what Eren had said next had even me wanting to keel over in karmic laughter.

"The reason why Jean and Marco broke up, was because Marco had been cheating on him."

The cheater ends up being the one who's cheated on. Damn, that's just classic.

I found myself nodding at the outcome of the situation, rather than laughing. Had I expected it? Well, maybe a little, but definitely not to this extent. The fact that the man who Jean had cheated on Eren with ended up cheating on him in return was just too poignant to laugh at. Instead, I could only appreciate it.

"Ah, but that's where the fun of the night ended," Eren said solemnly, "and it ended quickly. Jean began sobbing to the point where everything he was saying was incoherent and confusing. I wanted to hang up, Levi, I really did, but he was begging for me to stay on the phone with him. He was crying that he had no one else to talk to, and even though I was just so close to exploding at him right then and there, I didn't. I laid there in my bed, staring at the ceiling like I am right now, as I listened to everything he had to say. And I honestly don't know why I listened - I didn't  _want_ to listen - but I did. I listened to Jean cry."

My fingers tapped against the edge of my to-go cup that was still resting beside my leg, before I grabbed a hold of it by its lid and brought it to my lips for a small sip. As expected, my coffee had gone cold. Normally, I would have put up a huge fuss about such a thing, but today, it didn't bother me as much.

But don't get me wrong now. It still bothered me. Just not as much.

Sighing like a kid his age  _shouldn't_ be sighing, Eren rolled his neck as he moved to cup his hands against his nape again. "I kind of regret everything about that phone call, honestly. I should have just hung up the moment my brain had put two and two together and realized that it was Jean. But because I didn't, and because I'd stayed up until 6AM with him on the other line, I had the sunrise in my eyes when I'd heard his apology."

The sunrise in his eyes, huh? Funny. Eren _always_  had the sunrise in his eyes, but this time, he'd  _actually had_ the sun's rising rays in his eyeballs. It stings. It's obnoxious. And as previously stated, it's why I prefer sunsets.

Leaning back against the sofa, his hands still resting on his neck, I began to pay close attention to the way Eren's thumb rubbed against his tattoo - the flowery design he'd dedicated to his dead mother. I didn't want to mention it, but I had obviously noticed it. It was a small gesture, of course, but it must have been one of his coping mechanisms, just as isolating himself in times of hardship seemed to be his go-to.

"Was that all he said?" I asked, after realizing that we'd been slipping into a subtle silence.

Eren must have not been following, seeing as he ended up asking, "What do you mean?"

"'I'm sorry,'" I repeated, quoting Eren from before. "Was that all he said to you?"

Eren hesitated, before speaking again. "Well, I mean...he said a lot of things. Most of them were uncomfortable and awkward, so I don't really want to bring them up-"

"I'm talking about his apology, Eren. Was 'I'm sorry' all that he said to you?"

It wasn't my intention to get cross with him, but my impatience paired with my interruption must have made it seem that way. Although, Eren didn't take offense to it; in fact, he sometimes responded best, whenever my temper had its tendency to peak.

"I see," he said slowly. "In that case, then I guess I'd have to say no. Not exactly, at least. I mean, the 'I'm sorry' part was in there, but it was more of a 'I'm sorry that this is the type of pain you've had to endure,' or something like that. Actually, right after he said that, he told me something else. He told me that he should have loved me and hung up."

I watched Eren shake his head at that. "...That he should have loved me," he muttered to himself. "Yeah, he should have. He should have loved me when I loved him. But he didn't. He didn't love me, and now he's going to live on with the notion that all of his problems could have been solved if he had just done so. Like I'm the problem in all of this. But that's not right. I was never the problem. I put my damn heart and soul into the relationship, and for what? For  _this_? I don't deserve any of this. I did nothing wrong. I mean, I know I'm not a saint, but I'm...I just...I'm..."

I didn't have to look; I could heard it. The soft break in Eren's voice, the crack in his composure. I didn't have to look to see the tender tears rolling down his rosy cheeks. Tears wasted; tears earned. I didn't have to look to wrap my arms around him, to feel him bury his head into my chest and grasp for my comfort.

I didn't have to look at Eren to know what he was about to say; they were words that can never be spoken, nor never have to be spoken without struggle.  _I'm human_.  _I'm just human_. We say those very words so unconsciously that we unknowingly and essentially blame ourselves for being a failure.  _I made a mistake._ I'm only human.  _I cry when I feel pain_. I'm only human.  _I crave the warmth of another person_. I'm only human. We make "being human" seem like its the epitome of weakness, but that's something that I'll never understand. We are human, and as humans we feel pain, power, and pleasure, but that shouldn't be what defines our humanity.

Then again, what would I know? I'm only human, right?

Just as I'd done back when Eren had had his little weeping spell at my shop, I let him cry into my arms for as long as he felt the need to; however, my comforting tactics were minimal. Simple strokes of my hands, up and down his back; quiet hushing whenever his sobs got too loud. Things like that. Did I enjoy hearing him cry? No, of course not. But this was an important step for him. Now was the time for him to come to terms with everything that had ever caused him pain from his past relationship, let all of his aggressions out, and grow.

Somewhere along the line, half between muffled sobs and muted whimpers, Eren and I had taken advantage of the sofa and had used it therapeutically.

We laid there, I don't know for how long exactly, but we laid there for quite a while. When time had finally become a concept to us again, Eren had long stopped crying, but it had been even longer since either of us had said anything. It was nice. It was calming. But it was unwarranted.

Grasping what I understood of the situation so far, I made it a point to state my standing on the matter.

"Eren," I spoke lowly, due to the off chance that he might have fallen asleep or something. He hadn't. When he'd heard his name, he nudged his nose against my chin and hummed a little "hmm?"

I didn't blame him for sounding so exhausted. Hell, the poor kid had been up all night riding on an emotional roller coaster, a roller coaster that he'd had to ride twice through recollection of the entire event. On top of that, he'd just spent the past - I don't know - twenty or thirty minutes crying his eyes out? That would tire  _anyone_  out.

Picking at a particularly long strand of his hair, I began twirling it between two fingers. It felt soft, and it smelled nice enough to make me think that he must have just washed it, or something. "You know, Eren," I said again, "I understand being upset over this whole thing, and believe me, I do, but you didn't have to cancel your appointment with me today. I get that you're the whole suffer-in-silence type of person, but it doesn't have to be that way when you're around me. I'll admit, if you cried like this every day, it would get pretty annoying, but you're not like that. Actually, you're a lot like me."

Oh, yes. I could recall some times when I'd let all of my emotions lose. As of present, I've kept my tears for when they matter most, but in the past, I've had some pretty brutal nights where I'd had no one but Hanji to cry to, and vice versa. She was my shoulder, but she was also my rock. She's let me wail and whine about whatever I'd kept bottled inside - for sometimes years at a time - before smacking some sense into me - literally  _smacking_ me. Tough love. Yup. That was Hanji and me.

Although, I would never lay a finger on Eren in that way. While I'm all for disciplining the little brat on the days when his attitude is out of this world, I find it much easier to just leave him with the bite of my tongue. Violence is an answer, but it isn't always the correct answer.

"What do you mean, Levi?" Eren wondered. I could feel him turning his head in an effort to get a better look at my face, but it was an effort without reward. Ultimately, he rested his head back down and sighed.

"What I mean is, you stuff all of your feelings into a little bottle and harbor them there until they burst. More than that, I've noticed that whenever you're feeling sad, angry, or just pensive, you hide yourself away from the world and try to figure out all of your problems on your own. It's admirable, but it's not always what's best for you. Granted, I can't tell you how to live your life. If you want to keep yourself locked away like this way, I can't make it stop. But I personally think it's better to talk. And you know, for someone who feigned an illness to get away from seeing me, you sure talked a lot just now."

Yeah, I was mad that Eren didn't just open up and tell me what was wrong with him in the first place, but after analyzing his methods of mending himself, I felt like I'd learned more about him as a person.

Suffer-in-silence; isolating himself from others whenever he's feeling down. It sickened me to my core to admit it, but Eren really  _was_ like a cat. Man, those stupid pet names were going to haunt me for the rest of my life, weren't they?

"I guess I did, didn't I?" Eren laughed wearily. "Sorry about that. And I'm sorry for making you angry."

"Don't even mention it," I said, as I sighed. "I was more worried than anything else. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was really pissed off when I got that call from Hanji, saying that you had canceled your session without any explanation, but it's whatever now. It's nothing to be sorry for."

"Yeah, if you say so."

With a strong inhale, Eren slowly began to lift himself off of my chest and onto my lap. This new position wasn't exactly the most comfortable, but I could tell from the nature of things that it was only temporary. "You know," he spoke up again, "I kind of regret canceling my appointment with you, Levi. If anything, I should have been glad to go and get more of this disgusting blemish zapped off of my body. Ugh, you know, sometimes, I really question my rationality."

People aren't rational when they're in pain. There is no reason, only negligence and isolation.

"When have I ever told you that cancelations are a final decision, hm?"

Eren's eyes watched me with wonder, as I began to sit up myself. "Wait, what do you mean?"

Wasn't it obvious? I was making my offer quite simple.

"What I mean is that is isn't too late for you to change your mind. You can still head over to the shop with me, and you can still have your session, but it's your call."

I feel like there's a saying out there where you can hear a person say something, and never quite know if it's true or if it's false, but a person's eyes will never lie. Eyes are the windows to an honest soul, and tears are the teller of an honest heart.

It may have been for no more than a second, but when Eren's eyes had met mine, I could see into the realm of his riches, and what I saw was a gallery of gold. Gratitude. Relief. Acceptance. Love. All tied into one, pretty little package, inside of two, pretty little eyes.

"I'd love to, Levi," Eren said, nodding at my offer. "I'd really love to go to the shop with you. But if I'm being honest, I'm pretty sure that I'm going to fall asleep while you're working on me again."

Eren earned a chuckle out of me with that one. And as we both made our stand to get off of the sofa and get ready to go, I felt like it wouldn't have been right if I didn't add, "You know, I wouldn't have it any other way, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> Here's hoping that this chapter eased all of your worries about Eren and Jean, haha! I honestly couldn't believe how many reviews and comments I'd received because of the last chapter. I'm really sorry if I had worried any of you! Hopefully you were able to enjoy this chapter a lot better!
> 
> But something that's a bit exciting that I feel the need to mention is that TMPF has just reached over 100,000 words! Making the 100k mark is always a huge, huge accomplishment, and I'd really just like to thank all of you who have stuck with this story from the very beginning, or even if you've just started reading it this week! Thank you so very much, each and every one of you, for all of your support, your kind words, and your time! (:
> 
> And with that, as always, thank you for taking the time to read! I truly appreciate it!
> 
> \- Chappy


	25. Sepia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caveman paintings and warriors carved out of wood.

It's funny how people are always seeking affection and love, yet never expect to fall in love themselves. Sure, we all love to fantasize about the perfect relationship with the perfect person, living in the perfect house with the perfect family and the perfect neighbors, but we're all smart enough - hopefully - to realize that those are some of the things that aren't always attainable. Falling in love? That's the easy part. It just sort of happens, whether you want it to or not, and it can either be a blessing or a curse - and more often than not, it's a curse.

Although, falling in love with Eren has been neither of those things. It's been neither a blessing, nor a curse - only an adventure.

For a kid who didn't even have his own life straight, he sure has had a way of making me think differently about mine. And I know I've probably debated over this one, particular aspect more than I'd like to admit, but just the fact that he's given me the chance to do things that I'd never felt like doing before I'd met him, things that went against my morals, but have also broken me free, that in itself is reason enough for me to know that I'm in deep; maybe even a bit too deep, if you ask me.

And that's why I can't help myself from pitying Eren in the mildest of methods. He's a strong kid who knows when it's the right time to cry, but that's not the point I'm trying to get at. Eren has been deeply involved with someone else in the past, drowning himself in his love and his affections, only to be dizzied by the bends as he was thrust to the surface, forced into a cruel world with repulsive realities. One may think that after an experience like that, the kid would be too afraid to even look at the water, let alone letting his toes touch the tides. And rightly so.

Ah, but that's not Eren. That's not the Eren I've come to know, and I'm certainly sure that that's not the way he's ever been. Not after his mother died, and definitely not after he's had his heart broken.

Because of him, I've learned that everyone copes differently. Time and solitude are Eren's healers, and while I wasn't too keen on the whole "canceling his appointment so that he could suffer in silence" sort of thing, we managed to meet each other halfway, and I began to  _understand_  him.

Eren has always been a fighter. Wallowing is not his weakness, but his strength, for it's wallowing that gave him his thick skin and his iron heart. Does he have his moments where his hard shell begins to crack and the iron plating starts to melt? Hell yeah, he does.  _Everyone does_ , but that's what makes us warriors in a way. We all have our moments and we all have our lowest points, and I'm just grateful that Eren felt comfortable and confident enough to show me his.

Alright, but enough of that sappy crap.

After Eren and I had made it to the shop - I couldn't say that we'd made it "back" to the shop, when technically, neither of us had even  _been_ to the shop that day - Hanji had already locked up the doors and shut off all of the lights. It was a bit inconvenient, but her actions were per my instructions, after all.

Letting Eren in first, I soon followed after him. Leaving the doors unlocked behind us and turning on only a handful of the overhead lights, I ushered him toward his favourite tattooing chair and told him to hang tight while I got set up.

Eren had been completely conscious when I'd left him to go and fetch the cart that had all of my tattooing equipment neatly arranged and categorized by class, but when I'd rolled it back over and got myself situated beside him, it wasn't a surprise to me to see that he was already starting to fade - like I could blame him, though. The poor kid had a rough night.

While Eren slept, I worked on him tirelessly and tediously. The results from his last visit were still apparent, and with the density of his ink wearing thinner and thinner, sooner rather than later, Eren's atrocious alteration would be removed from his skin permanently.

When my work was done a good ten or fifteen minutes later, as was tradition, I cleaned Eren's hip and began icing the areas of his heaviest treatment. It had almost become second nature for me to do these things while he continued to sleep, yet it never ceased to amaze me just how heavy of a sleeper he truly was.

As I'd expected, Eren continued to rest well after I'd finished putting my equipment away. With nothing better to do besides wait for him to wake up, I'd decided to flip on the small radio that we hardly ever used, but for some reason kept on the front counter anyway. Pulling out my notepad and fishing around for one of the pens that were kept in the top desk drawer, I began to sketch.

I never really had a clear image in mind before I began to draw, but that was the same for painting, as well. Call it my style or call it insanity, I let my artistic instincts take over. Whatever scratch marks or silly spirals ended up on the paper was simply how it was supposed to be.

In the midst of my third design with fingers still itching to formulate, I heard Eren begin to stir. He sounded just as delirious as always, before making the connection between his placement and his location.

When he was aware enough to see what was in my hands, he'd asked me what I had been drawing. My response had been simply, "Nothing and everything," before closing my notepad and stuffing it away for a later occasion. I could tell that Eren wasn't satisfied with my answer, but after taking a quick glance at the wall clock that hung overhead, I'm sure he must have understood my reasons for being vague.

Eren and I had entered the shop just a few minutes after 5:30PM; by now, it was nearing midnight.

I had no problem with staying at the shop until after closing, or even a few hours beyond that. I'd done it before, and I wouldn't put up a fuss about doing it again. But when the moon was closer to its setting rather than its rising, that's where I drew the line.

And so, keeping with the idea of a vague overview, the rest of the night pretty much just went like this: I closed up the shop, drove Eren home, kissed him until my tongue felt numb, and then drove back to my own apartment and went to sleep. Simple, sweet, with nothing more to add.

 

* * *

 

The Artist Bizarre was drawing nearer and nearer, and with a fistful of days left until the big event, I figured that now would have been a better time than any to take a short trip out of town and visit with an old friend.

Well, I guess the term "mentor" is better suited for someone like him, but when it all comes down to it, I've felt comfortable enough calling the man named Erwin Smith a friend of mine for nearly a decade.

Hanji had introduced him to me when we were both just fresh out of college. He had been a family friend of hers ever since she was in middle school, and while I was honestly a bit intimidated by his posh and polished artistic abilities at first, I quickly began to appreciate the beauty of his work.

Erwin was a man of money, and incredibly so. His parents, never much for gambling, had simply purchased a single lottery ticket while they were stopped at a gas station on their way back home after vising with relatives. Amazingly, the Smith family had gone a week without knowing that they were the ones who had hit it big, and it wasn't until Mrs. Smith had been searching through the newspaper from the week prior to cut out coupons that she'd come across the winning numbers and rushed to dial her husband's work phone number.

Needless to say, Mrs. Smith never ended up using those coupons.

Knowing as much as I did about Erwin's fortunes and his delicate designs, it didn't surprise me to hear that he'd owned his own art gallery for accomplished artists. What  _did_ surprise me was when I'd heard that he had  _also_  owned his own tattoo shop.

There's that saying in the culinary world that you should never trust a skinny chef. Well, the same goes for the world of art, as well: never trust a tattoo artist who bears no tattoos himself.

Erwin's skin had been cleaner than a bar of sanitized soap, and yet, when he first showed Hanji and me his luxurious little shop with customers who all knew him by name, I wanted to call "BS" on him so badly that I could practically smell it in the air.

Ah, but he wasn't lying. That tattoo shop really  _had_ been his to claim, and when I'd finally come to terms with believing that, he offered both Hanji and me a job.

And honest to God, the years when I'd been working under him had been some of the most Hellish and outright amazing years of my entire life. Not only had I come to learn so much more about his style, as well as my very own, but I'd also learned far too many life lessons that I'd never even realized until they were presented to me on a silver platter.

It was Erwin who had taught me that art is more than just an expression, but also a necessity. Without art, there would be no world as we know it. Caveman paintings became warriors carved out of wood, angels axed out of marble. Sepia skies would map out our planet, and who knows if we would ever think anything more of it.

And while that in itself had been a lesson enough to hold me over until the afterlife, the importance of art wasn't the only thing Erwin had taught me. He had also been the one to teach me about the permanency of tattoos.

Erwin, too, had never agreed to removing anyone's tattoos before. Even if half-sober women with misshapen hearts and alien heads etched into their thighs came crying to him for some sort of fix, he would always shoo them away without a second thought. It took me a while to understand this colder side to him, but when he'd finally sat down with me on a night after his shop had been closed and Hanji had recently went off to go and fetch us some food, he'd explained his reasoning behind his actions.

"The past is full of mistakes. Erasing the past won't change anything, for the present isn't affected by the omission of something that has already occurred. What we must do is learn from our mistakes and continue to grow."

It's amazing how long I'd lived by those words without questioning them for a second. And then, well... No need to repeat myself. You already know what happened.

When Hanji had heard that I was making plans to meet with Erwin sometime over the weekend, she was surprisingly rather voluntary to watch the shop in my absence. "You don't want to come with me?" I'd asked, holding the phone close to my ear for just that second, before quickly pulling it away again. Hanji always spoke so damn loud whenever she was on the phone.

"Oh! I mean, I would love to, Levi, you know I would!" she spoke excitedly. "But I'm going to drive back home to visit with my family for Christmas, so I'll probably run into him sometime then. You two should just enjoy your one-on-one time together! I'm sure he'll be interested to hear about just how much you've changed over the past few months."

Oh, believe me. I certainly wasn't looking forward to telling him about all of that just yet.

"Suit yourself," I said with a sigh, before getting ready to end our discussion. "Anyway, I'm going to call Eren now and let him know that I'll be out of town for a bit, so I'll catch you later, alright?"

"Aye, aye!" Hanji giggled. "Talk to you later!"

After I'd hung up on Hanji, I faltered before calling Eren. The thought of inviting him to come along with me had crossed my mind, but in the end, I decided that it would be best for me to go alone. Not only is it unhealthy for a couple to spend every waking moment of their free-time together, but I had a feeling that even if I presented him with the offer of a small road tip, he would pleasantly deny.

Picking up my cell phone and finding Eren's contact, I pressed the speaker to my ear and waited for him to answer. Eren spoke softly when he was on the phone, so there was no need to hold it at a distance like I was forced to do with Hanji.

After four rings, I heard him pick up. "Hey. What's up?"

"Not much," I answered calmly, leaning my hip against the kitchen counter. "What about you?"

"I'm hanging out with Armin at my place." I could almost picture him turning his head to look over at his friend, as he'd said that. "We're watching a movie and then we're probably going to get some food."

"Sounds fun." Pressing my palm against the counter's smooth surface, I watched my fingers as they began to tap, before I mentioned, "You know, speaking of hanging out with friends, I'm actually going away this weekend to meet up with an old friend of mine. I just wanted to let you know, in case you needed to reach me."

"Oh, cool!" Eren said, maybe a bit too excitedly. "That sounds like fun! And, I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but I kind of pinned you to be the kind of person who didn't have any friends. You know, aside from Hanji, of course."

I scoffed at that snide remark. "Huh. How nice of you."

Laughing as he apologized, which, if you ask me, doesn't make any apology genuine, Eren continued to say, "Sorry, sorry. Anyway, have a nice time, alright? I'll talk to you later."

"Mhm." Still sliding my palm across the counter, I'd managed to shock myself by what I'd said next. Normally, I would have simply agreed with Eren's response and hung up. Why I didn't do that this time, I really don't know.

"I love you, Eren."

I could tell that the sound of my voice, as well as the words that I'd spoken had caught Eren off of his guard just as much as they'd caught me. However, just his stupid stammering alone was enough to make up for the embarrassment that I'd been feeling on my end of the confession.

"I, uh...I love you, too, Levi..."

Just as I was getting ready to hang up, I had to hesitate when I'd heard Armin yell "Ew! You guys!" on the other line, followed by Eren's overly embarrassed "Shut up, Armin!" to follow suit. Not only had that made me feel even better about being such a sap, it left me with a satisfying feeling to know that there was no way Armin would ever let Eren live a moment like that down.

Huh. You know, it just dawned on me. That was the first time I'd been the one to say "I love you" first.

Feeling a little less social after making both of those phone calls, I'd opted to text Erwin in order to solidify our plans. I'd been texting him earlier, so it didn't surprise me when he'd responded to my ' **So, are we still on for this weekend?** ' with an ' **Of course! Can't wait to see you again, Levi.** ' almost immediately.

It seemed like just seconds ago when I'd sent that text, yet there I was, fingers tapping against the steering wheel of my car instead of the counter in my kitchen, already on my way down to New Jersey.

Erwin and I had made plans to meet up at one of his favourite coffee shops - although it was probably way too pompous for my tastes anyway - where we'd pretty much just chat the afternoon away and catch up on all of the happenings in each others lives. The last I'd heard from Hanji, he had just recently gotten engaged, so I was more than sure that he would have a lot to talk about. Then again, truth be told, I was mostly just looking forward to seeing how his tattooing business was going.

The drive down to Jersey had been pretty smooth until I'd been hit with the traffic at the toll booths. I think that's the one thing that I'll never understand about drivers. Call me the citizen's police, but if you know that you're going to be driving through an area that has toll booths, or even just has the slightest potential of having toll booths, you should get your quarters ready ahead of time, keep them in your cup holder, on your dashboard, or wherever you see fit, and not be fumbling around with your wallet when there is a line of angry cars behind you, waiting for you to make your tedious transaction.

But ranting and road rage aside, I'd managed to get to Jersey, get myself lost, and locate the coffee shop Erwin had mentioned in just a little over three hours. Not bad, if I do say so myself.

As I'd parked my car in the front lot and made my way into the shop, I had to admit, it was a bit lonesome not being recognized by the baristas. Nothing against the girls in their little, green aprons, of course, but there was just no way that they would be able to get my order just right. No, not like Petra.

As I began to survey the shop, I noticed that none of the faces I was seeing were familiar and furrowed my brow. This  _was_ the right place, wasn't it? Erwin had made sure to give me the name and the address, which was what I'd made sure to carefully type into my GPS.

However, just as I'd moved out of the way to let two teenagers step in front of me, assuring them that I wasn't in line yet, I felt my phone vibrate and dug my hand into my back pocket to retrieve it. Checking my notifications, I saw that I had a new text message from Erwin and opened it.

' **Hey, Levi. I'm on my way to the coffee shop now, but I'm kind of stuck in traffic. It might take me another 20 minutes or so to get there, so just order anything you want and I'll pay you back later. It'll be my treat for making you wait like this. Sorry.** '

Having him say that almost made me want to purchase every pastry in that shop just to piss him off, but I didn't feel like being malicious on our first meeting in a long while. Hm. Maybe next time.

Just as I was getting ready to step back into the suddenly long line, I'd noticed that another person, who, coincidentally, had also been texting, had entered the shop and was making his way for the line. Although I didn't have to - I was there first, after all - I let him go ahead of me.

"Oh, are you sure?" he asked, lifting his head up from his phone. "You were here first, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but it's fine," I said, shrugging casually. "I'm waiting for someone anyway, so I don't really mind."

"Alright. Well, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

As we stood there, waiting as the line slowly inched along, I noticed that the man whom I'd let stand in front of me had begun eyeing my hands; more specifically, the tattoos upon them.

When  _he_  realized that  _I'd_  realized that he was looking at me, he quickly broke off eye contact and apologized. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. That was actually really rude of me."

Scratching the back of my neck a tad uncomfortably, I gave him another shrug and said, "Nah, don't worry about it. I'm used to it."

In that moment alone, I'd come to realize that there are two types of people in this world: people who mind their own business and don't bother to strike up a conversation with every person they meet, and then the people who do. I was clearly the prior, and well, the man in front of me was quickly proving to be the latter. I could say that quite comfortably, after he'd managed to revive a seemingly concluded conversation.

"You know, I've always had a  _thing_  for tattoos," he ended up saying, too flirtatiously for my liking. "My ex had a few of them and I'd always thought that they were pretty hot, but my job kind of forbids all forms of bodily art, so I can't get any myself. It's a real bummer. Although, if I could, I think I'd like to get some kind of constellation. I'd always thought that something like that would be pretty neat to have."

As the line continued to move along, the man had started telling me more stories about his ex, so many so that it was to the point where I was beginning to wonder if this was some kind of candid camera prank. There was no way this was actually happening, right? Did people who constantly talked to strangers about their exes actually exist? Well, apparently so.

"And you know, there was this one time when my ex and I went out for a jog together and noticed this really big-"

"I'm sorry, but-" Actually, I wasn't. I wasn't sorry for interrupting him at all. "You know, I don't know if, um... I don't know if you've realized this or not, but everything that you've said to me just now has been about your ex. If you like talking about your ex so much, let me ask you this: why aren't you still together?"

I was pretty sure that I'd heard the woman standing behind me snicker softly at my question, which, I had to say, was a bit flattering, but the satisfaction of others hadn't been what I was going for. In all honesty, I just wanted that man to shut up.

After hearing my question, the man's expression had unexpectedly turned somber, before he found it in himself to form a false smile. If he ended up saying something like "my ex is dead" or anything even remotely close to that, I would feel horrible. Luckily, he didn't, but what he did say was just as surprising.

"Let's just say it's because I'm an ass."

The woman's snickering had only intensified after that kind of response. She must have really been enjoying the entertainment that we were putting on for her, but honestly, I was just more than glad to see that it was the man's turn to go up and order his coffee. Goodbye and good riddance, or so I had hoped.

After the man had made his order and moved himself over into the drink pick-up line, I could tell that his eyes were still on me, watching me from the distance. You know, I'm really not one to scare easily, but the glint in his gaze left me feeling a bit creeped out. After hearing more than I'd bargained for about his ex and how he was apparently a self-proclaimed ass, I really wanted nothing more to do with him. Can I possibly be blamed for that?

Finally making my own order with the kindly baristas and praying to the high Heavens that they would get it right, I reluctantly made my way into the pick-up line, where the man was still standing and probably still staring. Trying to keep as much distance from him as the small space between me, him, and the woman behind me would allow, I nearly jumped for joy when I saw one of the baristas setting down a small to-go cup on the pick-up counter.

However, when she read the name that had been written on the side of the cup, I felt like I was going to vomit.

"Jean?"

"That's me. But it's pronounced  _Jean_." And the man who stood in front of me stepped forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> And here's hoping that you all appreciated that little twisty-twist at the end there! Although, I'm curious to see if any of you were able to guess who the mystery man was, before his name was revealed. If you did, good job! (:
> 
> Also, I vaguely remember a few of you guys asking about other characters being added to this story, so here you go! Erwin has been added to the mix! ...And it only took 25 chapters for him to do so, pffff.
> 
> Alright, that's more than enough rambling for me! I really hope that you've enjoyed this chapter, because I seriously had a blast writing it!
> 
> And as always, thank you for taking the time to read! I really do appreciate it!
> 
> \- Chappy


	26. Cerulean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling content with the things we never actually do; the satisfaction of "almost".

Everyone has had those fantasies before. You know the ones, don't you? The fantasies where you finally muster up the courage to fight back and punch the school's biggest bully right in the face. You send him running off into the shadows, wailing and sobbing just as you were forced to do within the shadows of your bedroom. Or what about your boss? We've all had horrible bosses, right? Haven't you ever imagined being able to snap back and point your finger at them just as they've done to you? It's an empowering feeling - just the thought of it - but you know you'd never act on it. Why?

You're smart enough to know that simple fantasies aren't enough to protect you from broken noses or pink slips.

And while I had neither broken nose, nor pink slip to worry about in the case of my fantastic little fantasy, I knew that causing a scene in the middle of the coffee shop wouldn't have been the best idea. Oh, but believe you me, I'd definitely thought about it. What I wouldn't have given to strangle the life out of that piece of trendy trash...

As he thanklessly grabbed his coffee cup, eyeing me in a side sort of glance as he strolled toward the main door, I almost said something. I almost opened my mouth and I almost let him hear of the sorrows that I had seen. The tear-stained face I had to sooth. The shaking shoulders I had to calm. The broken heart I had to mend. I almost opened my mouth - but I didn't and I'm glad.

Talking down to Jean wouldn't have made the pain he'd caused Eren magically disappear. Telling him how despicable of a human being he was wouldn't have changed him for the better. And dumping bitter coffee all over his horse-shaped head - not matter how hilarious - wouldn't have guaranteed me a sweeter satisfaction.

Life goes on. Stuff happens. Oh well.

I watched him exit the coffee shop, and as a sigh of relief seemed to be the most appropriate response, I'd felt even more relieved when my name was finally called.

Heading up to the pick-up counter, I grabbed my coffee mug, minding how it was filled to its absolute brim with a dark roast blend, and snaked my way around the still-forming line in an effort to find a seat in the back of the shop. For a place to meet up with an old friend whom I'd hadn't seen in a long while, this definitely wouldn't have been my top choice pick.

Drowning out the sounds of busy chatter and the classic 80's rock music that was playing over the shop's faulty speaker system, I sat down at the table that was the furthest in the back and scoffed as it wobbled under the weight of my elbows. It must have been made to have uneven legs, or something. Just how in the Hell was this coffee shop Erwin's  _favourite_? I mean, it was decent, but if I'd said it once, I'd say it again: I was completely biased.

I took a sip from my coffee mug - a tolerable taste, but nothing extraordinary - and wedged my hand between the back of the chair and my back pocket to pull out my cell phone. I'd wanted to see if I'd gotten any more text messages from Erwin. When I hadn't, I still started up my phone's messaging application regardless. Tapping my finger to Hanji's contact information, I wrote her the following message:

' **You'll never guess who I just saw.** '

Saturdays were some of our busiest days at the shop, so I hadn't expected Hanji to reply to my text as quickly as she had. In fact, I was a bit disconcerted by how fast my phone had lit up with a response. That was never a good sign for business.

' **What? What? Who did you see? Erwin?** '

For an out-of-the-box thinker like Hanji, she really wasn't utilizing her thinking skills to the best of their abilities. Sighing as I took another sip from my mug, I popped my phone back into my hands and typed out another message.

' **No. Erwin's stuck in traffic. Take another guess.** '

It had taken a bit longer for me to receive a message in return from Hanji this time around, but that most likely wasn't due to a customer, and was more likely because she was actually trying to take a legitimate guess.

When my phone finally buzzed and I'd picked it up to see what she'd said, I couldn't help but laugh.

' **I don't know. Isabel?** '

Isabel was an ex-girlfriend of mine who I'd dated for no more than a month back in high school. Hanji had never met Isabel personally, but I'd told her enough silly stories about her for the name to have stuck in her head. And don't get me wrong, Isabel was a nice enough girl, but our relationship was pretty much destined to end from the moment it'd started.

' **Nah, but good guess, I suppose.** '

I wondered if I should have made Hanji take one more guess or just tell her flat out who I'd seen. Knowing that Erwin would probably show up at any minute, I decided to just tell her.

' **I saw Jean.** '

At first, Hanji had simply sent me an array of key-smashed letters that were incoherent, yet legible enough to understand her confused excitement. Her next message was much more expected.

' **WHAT THE HELL?! HOW DO YOU KNOW IT WAS HIM?!** '

Calling her would have been so much simpler, but Hanji would just have to handle a half-assed explanation over text for now. I could fill her in with more of the heavy details later.

' **I was in line with him at this coffee shop that I'm waiting for Erwin at. I didn't know it was him at first. He didn't start talking to me, until he'd noticed my tattoos. Plus, he was weirdly obsessed with talking to me about his 'ex' and how they had tattoos just like me, or whatever. Anyway, when his name was called up to go and get his coffee, the barista pronounced his name wrong and he ended up correcting her, just like Eren said he loved to do.** '

Hanji had to have been in the middle of hammering out her response to that one, but unfortunately, her message would have to be left unread for now.

"You've sure taken a liking to technology, haven't you?"

It wasn't just the sound of that familiar voice that had snagged my attention, but also the motion of the stagnant, opposing chair as it was pulled back to happily seat its new occupant. Sending the table into a bit of a tizzy when he'd settled his arms on its surface, the glint of his Rolex and the glimmer in his cerulean gaze almost had me rolling my eyes.

Huh. Another almost. It would seem that I was very in control of my actions that day. Well, so far, at least.

"No, not really," I spoke with a sigh. Setting my cell phone down and replacing its absence with my coffee mug, I eyed my new company inquisitively as I asked, "You'd get bored, too, if you sat here waiting for someone for nearly thirty minutes, wouldn't you?"

Holding his hands up in his defense, he nodded his head in agreement. "Point taken, point taken. Anyway, how have you been, Levi? It's good to finally see you again."

For someone who could probably fill ten swimming pools with his life savings, Erwin had always been a very modest man. Save for that shiny hunk of clockwork that he wore around his wrist, every time I saw him, he was always wearing something affordable; sweaters in the winter and t-shirts in the summer. Nothing fancy, nothing uncommon.

Today was no different. He was simply wearing an argyle v-neck with a pair of tan slacks. No one but myself would have thought for a second that this was a man made of millions, and I'm more than positive that's the way he wanted it to be - for as I'd previously mentioned, Erwin had always been a very modest man.

"I've been alright," I replied easily, taking another small sip from my coffee mug. "You? Hanji told me that you just recently got engaged."

"Ah, yes," Erwin nodded, wearing a bashful, yet boastful smile. "That's right. As you know, we've been dating for a couple of years now, so I figured marriage would be the next best step for the both of us."

"And obviously she must have felt the same way," I said, speaking against the smooth lip of my mug.

I was genuinely happy for Erwin, I really was, but I had always found the whole thrill of an engagement to be kind of pointless. It's like, if you're in the right relationship, the two of you are most likely already talking in abstracts about the idea of marriage, so what's the big surprise? Oh, and don't even get me started on the rings. I know how happy a girl gets when she has a huge rock on her fourth finger, but I can't help from feeling like owning an object that's worth far more than it needs to be to symbolize something so simple places the focus on the material over the marriage.

Hell, but who am I to judge? Engagements are taking place all over the world as we speak, and rings are probably being purchased just as frequently. And for his lady's sake, I sure hope Erwin bought her something in the sparkly, six-zero range.

I was a bit surprised that we hadn't stayed on the subject of Erwin's marriage for all that long. He'd off-handedly mentioned something about their wedding taking place in the autumn months of the following year, but that was it. No engagement stories, nothing about housing plans, just a simple "I hope you and Hanji will be able to make it to the wedding."

Nearly finished with my cup of coffee by the time I'd realized Erwin hadn't purchased anything for himself, I said, "You know, it's kind of pointless to be sitting in a coffee shop if you're not going to drink any coffee. They might kick you out."

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "You're right about that. I'll go up and get something right now, then. Oh! By the way, how much did your coffee cost? I said I'd pay for it, wouldn't I?"

I lifted an eyebrow at him. "And you honestly thought I would accept that kind of offer? Give me a break and go get yourself a cup of coffee already."

I took pride in being able to make Erwin scoff at that. He was fairly easy to amuse, but what he found truly humorous tended to be very limited. Although, I was pretty lucky with him. I could get away with saying a lot of the things that he wouldn't dare let others say to him; even Hanji.

And speaking of Hanji, when Erwin had stepped away from our table to join the long line of awaiting customers, promising a hopefully quick return, I'd turned my attention back to my phone, flipping it on to see what she had said. Her message made me want to laugh.

Aside from the plethora of exclamation points and scattered gibberish, she'd replied, ' **Of all people to run into, it just had to be him. Damn.** '

Feeling very much the same way, I responded shortly, saying only, ' **I know, right?** '

Hanji's speedy replies hadn't begun to bother me until that very moment, because it wasn't  _until_  that  _very moment_ that she'd made me think. And God, did she make me think hard.

' **Did you already tell Eren?** '

The question itself had been innocent and honest, but that's probably what pissed me off the most about it. My first instinct? Yeah, it sure as Hell had been to tell Eren all about this, but with the more time I'd been given to ponder on the whole thing, I began to wonder if telling him would have even been worth the while. Just the mere thought of Jean tore Eren up inside, and after having to deal with that stupid phone call with him, I could only imagine that he'd probably never even want to hear his name again, let alone the fact that I'd seen him, interacted with him, and had listened to him go on and on about an old ex as if he were still pining. Eren didn't need that mental image in his life, and quite frankly, neither did I.

My fingers tapped aimlessly against the lettered keys on my phone, trying to put what I'd wanted to say into words that wouldn't make it sound like I was keeping some sort of dirty secret from him. "Eren doesn't need to know" and "I don't want to tell him" were easy options; they got to the point that I was trying to make, but they both sounded downright Godawful.

Deciding that ' **I'd rather just forget that the whole thing even happened,** ' was probably my best bet, I typed out my reply and set down my cell phone just in time to see Erwin walking back over to our table, a cup of coffee in one hand, and a cheese danish in the other.

"With the way you're constantly texting like that," Erwin began to say, as he moved the chair back to sit down, "you're making me wonder if you've got yourself a little lover, Levi."

Reaching over to pluck off a piece of Erwin's danish and pop it into my mouth, I gave him a shrug of my shoulders and a nod of my head. "Well, if you consider Hanji to be a 'little lover' of mine, then by all means, be my guest. She's the person I've been texting."

"I see, I see. My mistake, then." Taking a piece of the danish himself and breaking it off bit by bit before taking his first bite, Erwin felt the need to ask, "And how is Hanji doing these days?"

I shrugged again. "The same, I guess. Annoying, loud, irreplaceable. She and Mike keep having the same, on-and-off sort of fling, so I'm not even going to try to decode her current relationship status."

Erwin nodded knowingly. Just as Hanji had never met Isabel, Erwin had never met Mike, yet he'd heard enough about him to know what I was getting at by saying that.

"What about you, Levi?" Erwin questioned, mimicking my unique cup-hold as he brought his mug to his lips to give his coffee a gentle blow. "Have you gotten yourself involved in any relationships lately?"

I sighed. That question had been inevitable, and I'd known that from the start, but I'd been hoping that maybe, just maybe, we would have been able to hold off on the whole story of my love life until we'd gotten ourselves more reacquainted with one another. Oh, well. I suppose it couldn't be helped.

Listening to the delicate chime pf the ceramic as my fingernails rapped rhythmically against the edge of my coffee mug, I gave in with a small nod. Damn it, here we go. "I, uh...well, yeah. I have...and am."

But of course, Erwin had been genuinely surprised to learn that I had found someone willing enough to deal with my stand-offish attitude and my overly artistic behaviors. He wasn't the only one who was surprised, though; I was pretty surprised, too.

"Wow, I would have never guessed!" Hearing him say that left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. Maybe it was my rags against his riches, but some of the things he said had a tendency to sound just a bit too condescending. "Who's the lucky lady?"

"I'm dating a guy."

"Oh." Yeah.  _Oh_.

It wasn't new knowledge to Erwin that I was pretty flexible with who I liked hang around with, but for a blatant heterosexual like himself, he sometimes forgot about how open I was with my relationships. Now was the perfect opportunity for a little refresher course.

After a silence that was a bit too uncomfortable for my tastes, Erwin finally asked, "Well, what's his name?"

"Eren," I answered plainly. Nothing more, nothing less; then again, you can't really give  _less_ than someone's name.

"Eren, huh?" he repeated for some reason. "What does he do, this Eren?"

In no more than a minute, we'd gone from two friends having a casual conversation over coffee, to sounding like a parent and their child. I had honestly always pictured someone like Erwin to be the perfect father-figure, but that didn't mean that I wanted him to be  _my_ father-figure.

Taking the last sip of my coffee, coffee that had already become disgustingly cold, I answered, "He doesn't  _do_ much of anything. He's still a student." I regretted that answer. While it was true to most of its degree, I almost felt like I was degrading all of the work that Eren put into his photography by saying that he hardly did anything. I wished that I could have taken that back, but it was already too late. Erwin was speaking up again.

"Well, that's...that's a bit surprising. I'd never pinned you to be the type of person to date someone so much younger than you, Levi."

I shrugged for the umpteenth time that afternoon and shoved my coffee mug aside. "Yeah, me either. But, you know, whatever."

Obviously still trying to wrap his head around my relationship with Eren, Erwin asked another important question. Furthermore, the one I'd been dreading the most. "How did you two meet? I doubt it was on his college campus."

Well, he was definitely right about that.

With a roll of my shoulders, stiff from so much shrugging, I prepared myself for the worst, when I'd said, "We met at the tattoo shop."

Erwin bit off another piece of his danish, before uttering a soft chuckle. "You know, Levi, you're being pretty cryptic about this whole thing. You've got me interested and I want to hear more details. So, you met at your shop. Was he a customer of yours, or something?"

A customer? He was much more than that now. "He was..." I answered slowly, "...and still is."

"Still is? What do you mean by that?"

Alright. Here we  _really_ go.

"If you want more details, then I guess I'd better start off from the beginning, huh?" I said, whilst sighing. "You see, I pretty much hated Eren's guts, when I'd first saw him. He came strolling into my shop right around closing, wearing the most horrendous outfit I had ever seen. But I guess all of that is beside the point, right? Anyway, the only reason he had even come into my shop wasn't because he was looking to get a new tattoo...he was looking to get an old one removed."

It didn't take much to notice the change in Erwin's demeanor, after I'd said that. His jaw had hardened and his fingers had become rather stiff around his mug. "...A tattoo removal?"

The drop in Erwin's voice sent shivers down my spine. That very same voice was the reason why some of the best times I'd spent as his underling had also been some of the worst.

"Yeah, exactly that," I affirmed, continuing on with the rest of my story. It was actually a bit nostalgic to think back like this. Eren was still the same, stupid kid I'd met on that late summer evening, but he was in no way the same in regards to my affections. "I was completely opposed to the idea, at first. I'd told him that we were a tattoo shop, not a removal service, and shooed him out the door...but he came back the next day. I mean, I had to give it to him, the kid had some honest to goodness persistence, but God, was he annoying. He kept saying the same thing over and over again, that he needed to get this stupid tattoo of his removed, so much so that Hanji and I had become legitimately curious as to just what the Hell it was that he wanted to get removed. Ah, but he wouldn't show it to us - not unless we promised to remove it for him."

"Sounds pretty manipulative, if you ask me," Erwin spoke seriously, folding his arms over his chest as he did so. "I hope you didn't give into him, when he'd said that."

And there it was. The part of my story that I had been dreading all along.

But instead of speaking sheepishly, like I was ashamed of accepting Eren's request - his  _challenge_  - I folded my arms just as well, resting them against the table. I tried not to pay too much attention to the way I'd caused it to dip in my favor, as I looked at Erwin with a stone-cold stare.

"Actually, I did," I responded honestly. "If he promised to show us the tattoo, I promised to remove it, and you know what, Erwin? It was the best damn deal I have ever made."

Erwin didn't have to voice his disappointment in my decision; I could feel it. "My" morals - his morals - had been so deeply ingrained into my brain that the back of my head began to hurt. But I wasn't going to let that stop me. I wasn't going to let his muted misconceptions make me falter. I kept talking.

"You know, for a kid who can't even keep an honorable fashion sense, he sure has taught more than I was willing to learn. Not only has he taught me how freaking cruel this world can be... Hell, he's also taught me that it can be just as beautiful. So, yeah, I agreed to erase a little inkling of his past. Did it go against everything I stand for? Yeah, it did. Would I ever want to remove anyone else's tattoos? No. Hell, no. But none of that even matters to me. I took a chance on Eren, because I knew that he must have had a damn good reason for wanting to get that ink of his removed, and he did. He damn well did, and I come to realize that more and more every day."

Had I meant to go off on a rant like that? No, I hadn't. But that's how I knew that I really did believe in the justification of my actions. Erwin may have been opposed to change, and he may forever be opposed to change, and that's fine. That's his life to live. My life is a bit different now, and that's because Eren is a part of it. I didn't need anyone else's approval of that very fact but my own.

"...I see." It had taken Erwin longer than I would have liked for him to say that. There was a sense of judgement wafting in the air, thick enough where I could feel it weighing down my shoulders. I'd only begun to feel some relief from that pending pressure when Erwin had spoken up again.

But his question had left me a bit speechless.

"Levi, I've never seen you speak out like that about anyone...well, about anyone before. You're really in love with this guy, aren't you?"

I don't know what exactly had possessed me to look away from Erwin's earnest eyes at that very moment, but whatever it was, it must have been the doings of a higher power. It was inevitable that a coffee shop conversation as intense as ours had grasped the attention of a few of our surrounding tables, but that was far beyond what had mattered to me. There was one person, a person who I'd seen physically leaving the shop, whose attention we had grabbed with a vice, holding him tight and gagging him in his own guilt.

Maybe I'd never be able to dump coffee on his head, point my finger at him and scream and shout, or punch him sweetly in the face, but with my next few words, I'd be getting all of the revenge on Jean that I would ever need.

"You're right, Erwin. I am. I am in love with Eren. And thankfully, he's in love with me, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here! 
> 
> I'm sorry that Jean didn't end up getting punched in the face - or killed - like a lot of you had wanted, haha! But I personally think that revenge is a dish best served cold. ;D
> 
> I really ramble a lot in these notes, so I'm going to try to keep this one short and sweet! I hope you enjoyed this chapter update, however bittersweet it may have been.
> 
> And of course, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	27. Slate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's better if questions never have their answers.

Admitting that you're in love can be just as frightening as it is empowering. Love is like that sultry suit of armor that you wear into battle, warding off loneliness and and conquering disassociation. But once the love is lost, so, too, is the armor. You're stripped down into a fleshy state of vulnerability, the being you once were before you bore the amor, and then what? Will you still ride into battle to fight off all of those external demons? Probably not - and just like that, they will consume you.

But hey, what do I care about battles and armor? All that mattered to me was how good it had felt to rub that little love confession into Jean's face.

It was my decision not to make direct eye contact with him, as I spoke. Giving him a quick glance was more than enough, for that was all that it took for Jean to know that I had seen him, and that he had seen me.

And that was it.

There was no brewhouse brawl, and no coffee shop takedown. Not a moment after I had told Erwin where my feelings of love and adoration lied, Jean had combed his fingers through his hair in an effort to hide whatever it was that he was feeling. Then, nodding to himself as if the world suddenly made sense, he left the shop once again.

Erwin had taken note of my divided attention and had turned his head just in time to see Jean's grand exit from the shop. Shooting me a quizzical look as he shifted to face forward once more, he asked, "Did you know that young man?"

That was a question that posed a pretty hefty answer. However, for the time being, I figured I'd just show him a shrug of my shoulders and sigh. "Sort of."

"A friend of a friend?"

I scoffed at that. "Not quite."

Thankfully, Erwin had dropped the conversation there, and while the notion of it awkwardly lingered on the edge of our table as we picked up new topics to talk about, I did my best to pay no mind to it. Erwin already knew more than enough of what I was comfortable with sharing about Eren; he didn't need to know all about his past love life, as well.

My love life? That was a different story.

"You know, Levi, I don't think I've ever seen you talk about anything like that before. At least, not with that much passion," Erwin addressed almost amusedly. He'd rapped his fingers against the surface of our table, giving it a good wobble, before clicking his tongue and changing his mind. "Actually, I take that back. I have seen that passion of yours before, I'm sure of it. But maybe, at the time, it was a bit more subtle and a lot more...colorful."

So that's how it is, huh? No code-cracking or riddle-breaking necessary; I knew exactly what Erwin was referring to. Without the bat of an eye, I openly engaged him in his "cryptic" conversation. "You're talking about my artworks, aren't you?"

He nodded. "That I am. You never miss a beat, do you?"

"Not when you're being so obvious about it."

Leaning back in his chair, Erwin let go of a chipper laugh before shaking his head and straightening out his shoulders. "I suppose I was being rather easy to read, wasn't I?"

Easy to read was quite the understatement. Nevertheless, I knew what he was getting at. While Erwin's message seemed pretty straightforward, it was the underlying meaning behind it that I had to work for.

Essentially, Erwin was comparing my love of art with my love for Eren. It's funny how such a comparison had taken me months to wrap my head around, whereas for someone like Erwin, who was only getting an outside view of our relationship, he'd been able to piece my two passions together in a matter of minutes. Huh. Must have been my little rant from earlier.

As the passing of the hour began to dwindle and I had a new cup of coffee in my hands, I'd made it a point to ask Erwin about his tattooing business. I'd be sure to ask him all about his arts and crafts store as well, but it was obvious where the peak of my interests were concerned.

"Things are going pretty well," he'd mentioned, as he took a sip from his mug. He, too, had gotten a refill on his coffee. "We're planning on expanding the place soon. Too many customers and not enough room to move around, you know?"

I couldn't say that I could relate. While my business faired a good amount of income, many days, I found myself wondering if our shop would profit from an expansion. And many days, the answer had always ended up being no.

While Erwin continued to discuss his expansion plans with me, I'd stupidly began to wonder what had been going through Jean's head when he'd heard me say those words regarding Eren out loud - even  _I_ didn't know what was going through my  _own_ head at that point. All I knew was that I'd wanted to prove to Erwin that I wasn't afraid to come forward and stand behind my feelings for Eren. Nothing more, nothing less. I wasn't looking for validation, and I hadn't been particularly looking for revenge, either, yet the revenge came along, and with it, a sense of validation.

But the more I began to wonder, the more I thought about the motives behind "why". Why had Jean returned to the shop like that? I distinctly remembered seeing him leave, so why? What had possessed those feet of his to come catwalking back into the coffee shop? Had it been to get another cup of coffee? No, the coffee that he'd ordered had still been in his hands. So, what then? Was it to see me? Did he want to ask me a question? Ask me for my cell phone number? My name?

There were far too many questions and not enough answers to go along with them. But you know, that was more than fine by me. Knowing the answers behind the questions, and the questions behind the actions wouldn't have had some miraculous or grand effect on my life. Maybe it would be better if I did know the answers; maybe it would be better if I didn't. For what it's worth, I saw not knowing the answers behind Jean's actions as simply less that I'd find myself worrying about on the long car ride home - or so I had hoped.

By the time my conversations with Erwin had started becoming dull, the sun had hid itself behind puffy clouds, filled to their fluffy brim with saturation. The weather forecast had warned of showers in the late afternoon, but it had said nothing about the torrential downpour that the slate sky looked as if it were about to release. Well, that was going to be fun to drive home in.

"Hm, that doesn't look promising," Erwin said. He, too, had been looking out the window at the upsetting nature of the sky. "And you have a long drive back, don't you?"

Shrugging, I tapped my finger against the third mug of coffee I had consumed that afternoon, and said, "Yeah, but I'll manage. I've driven in worse than a little bit of water."

"Are you sure?" Erwin didn't seem too impressed by heroism. "If you want, you could stay at my place for the night and head back in the morning. It's not too far from here, and I don't think my finacée would mind the company all that much. In fact, I'm sure she would be thrilled to meet you."

While the invitation was flattering - repulsively so - I politely declined. "As much as I would  _love_ to spend the night in your uptown mansion, sleeping under silk sheets and snacking on caviar, I'm going to have to say no. After a full day working by herself, Hanji's probably going to need me to open up the shop tomorrow morning. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I'll promise to drive slowly."

Erwin admitted that having me make a promise like that did indeed settle his stomach, but it wouldn't have been in his nature if he hadn't pushed the offer at least one more time. "Well, if you'd ever like to come over, feel free to stop on by. My door is always open."

"Your door is four hours away," I scoffed. "And besides, a rich man like you should keep a tight lock on all of his doors. Wouldn't want anyone breaking in and stealing your fortunes, now would you?"

Erwin knew that I'd made a comment like that all in good fun, but it didn't stop him from shooting a playfully serious glance my way. "Watch it now," he murmured amusedly, "or else your name will be on the list of suspects that I hand over to the police, if something like that were to happen."

What better way to end a conversation than with a silly threat like that? But that's just Erwin and that's just how our relationship had always been. I was happy to see that it hadn't changed.

Wishing Erwin well with everything from his expansion plans to his wedding plans, I excused myself from our shaky table in the back of the shop and headed for the exit. The sidewalk and the cement had already started to speckle from the small raindrops that had begun to fall. Fantastic. I couldn't stress just how awesome this ride home was going to be.

I knew that if I'd really wanted to, Hanji would have had no problems opening the shop again tomorrow, and I could have stayed with Erwin for the evening. But that's just the thing. I  _didn't_  want to. I didn't want to stay with Erwin, and I didn't want to stay in New Jersey. Hell, I didn't even want to go back to my own place. As I got into my car and belted up for long trip ahead, there was only one destination, one person, on my mind; and that person was Eren.

It's ironic, isn't it? I'd thought that being away from each other for a little while would do us some good - you know, as far as couple standards go - but with every word I spoke and with everything I saw that afternoon, I'd been reminded of him. The golden coloring that had outlined the shop's pastry case had reminded me of Eren's eyes. The burgundy table tops had reminded me of his styled and dyed fringe. And then, of course, there was the obvious; Jean. Seeing him, physically  _seeing_ him, had uncovered a secondhand swirl of Eren's most painful memories. I'd seen the smile that Eren had fallen in love with, the lips that he used to kiss. Was I jealous? Hardly. Jean wasn't a threat to me, and I wasn't a threat to him. We were merely two passing auras in a coffee shop that didn't even know how to properly brew a dark roast, or find the time to replace its damaged tables. But I digress.

Instead of listening to the radio, I opted to listen to the sound of the roaring rain as it pounded against the roof of my car and sloshed against my windshield. I could have done without the shrill shriek as my wipers powered against the pour; however, after a while, the stop-and-go pace from all of the weathered traffic had gotten so frustrating that a squeaky sound like that was music to my ears in comparison.

The storm clouds only grew darker, as the hours had passed and the night had fallen along with the dwindling rain. It had taken me five hours - an entire hour more than it had before - to get off of that damn highway. With a quick glance at the clock, I figured that it would take me another good forty minutes or so before I even made it close to Eren's place. Hopefully he wouldn't mind a midnight surprise.

It was inevitable that in the span of my quiet drive, Jean would take over my thoughts yet again. Although, this time, I found myself analyzing our brief interaction with one another. If I hadn't been mistaken, I would have said that he'd been coming onto me. The way he'd pointed at my tattoos, looking at them with such appreciative eyes, and how he'd made it a point to address his relationship status by using the word "ex" so much that it had started to sound like a fake word. Very little of that moment had made sense, which was probably why I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Luckily, I'd overestimated how long it would take to get to Eren's place - and by a vast margin, too. Arriving at the lot and pulling into the parking garages just as I'd done around a week ago, I'd ended up having a much more difficult time finding a spot. Such a thing was to be expected, though. It was late, everyone was home, and Eren's complex housed quite a number of residents.

After driving up to the fourth level of the garage, I'd managed to snag the last corner spot. Rounding my car into it like you'd see in one of those comedy-thriller movies, I parked and threw my head back against the headrest. That was way too much driving for one day. Hopefully Eren wouldn't turn me away from his apartment, or else I'd have even  _more_ driving ahead of me.

Getting out of my car and stretching my legs like I hadn't walked in days, I fiddled for my keys before locking my doors and heading for the elevator. As I walked, curiosity got the better of me and I pulled out my cell phone to see if I'd gotten any text messages or phone calls while I'd been driving - I tend to keep my phone on silent in order to prevent any irritating butt vibrating when I'm on the road. Coincidentally enough, I had a new message from Eren.

Stopping at the elevator doors, I used my knuckle to press the arrowed button to go down and opened Eren's text. ' **Hey, I know you're probably still hanging out with your friend, but if you get the chance, can you call me tonight? This is kind of stupid, but I miss the sound of your voice.** '

Lo and behold, as the elevator doors opened and I stepped inside, I realized that there had been not just one, but two parts to Eren's adorable message. ' **Okay, that was really embarrassing. I wish I could delete that message, but I already sent it. Just forget about it, okay?...I still kind of want you to call me, though.** '

Oh, Eren. You would be getting much better than a measly phone call. You were about to get the real thing, up close and personal.

Heading down to the second floor where Eren's apartment was, I coasted quietly through the hallway like a ghost of the night and stopped at Eren's front door. The thought of knocking had crossed my mind, but I knew just how paper thin apartment walls were and opted for a quick phone call instead; the phone call Eren had been wanting all evening.

Clicking on his contact and pressing my phone to my ear, it had to have been no more than two rings before I'd heard Eren's voice against the speaker.

"Hello?"

"Hey," I whispered. Deciding to have a little bit of fun with him, I quietly added, "I got your texts from earlier. Did you really miss my voice  _that_ much?"

Receiving the very reaction I'd been after, I heard Eren gasp on the other end, before frantically saying, "I told you to forget about that! I texted you while I was feeling lonely, I guess. I don't know. But hey, why are you whispering like that? Where are you?"

"Standing outside your door."

Eren had never been a gullible one. Naive, yes, but never gullible. "Haha," he said. "Very funny, Levi. Seriously, where are you?"

Leaning against the white-washed wall of the complex, I clicked my tongue and gave him a little laugh. "You don't believe me? Why don't you come out here and see for yourself." Hell, I was certainly being flirtatious that night.

There was a string of silence, before I heard Eren sigh in defeat. I could tell from the ruffling sounds that I'd started to hear that Eren was getting out of his bed and coming toward the front door. After that, I'd heard his voice both over the phone and through the thin walls, as he spoke with warning, "If you're not standing in front of my door, I'm going to be so mad at you for making me get out of-"

"What was that that you were saying, Eren?" I wondered, as I flipped off my cell and slid it back into my pocket. Eren had stopped speaking in the middle of his sentence, because as he'd been talking, he'd also been unlocking the door in the process. No need to be angry at someone for telling a lie, when they were telling the truth all along, right? "Something about being mad?"

Watching Eren's face turn from sour to sweet in a split second had been completely worth the risk of driving over. "Levi! What are you-"

Slapping my hand over his mouth, I pushed him back into his apartment and shut the door before he woke up the whole complex with his loud voice. Did this kid have any manners? Heh, what kind of question was that? Of course he didn't.

Flicking his chin after he gave the center of my palm a childish lick, I answered his unfinished question. "I came here, because I wanted to see you."

Unlike Eren, I wasn't as bashful about what I wanted. While I felt like a complete sap admitting something like that, I wasn't going to come all the way to his apartment just to lie to his face about it. I came because I'd wanted to see him. It was as simple as that.

Just as I'd seen the shift in Eren's expression before there was an even greater shift going on in his eyes. From sour to sweet, then from sweet to sultry, it was with wordless understanding that had me following Eren back to his bedroom; and let me tell you, as far as first impressions go, the place was an absolute mess.

I couldn't blame him for the unmade bed, seeing as he'd just gotten out of it, but I could blame him for everything else. The pile of dirty clothes on the floor, the cluster of old energy drink cans in the corner, and the stacks upon stacks of photographs that he must have taken over the years. A garbage dump; that's what his room was. Surprisingly enough, however, it didn't smell all that bad. No, in fact, it smelled a little bit like lemons.

Inviting me to lay down with him, I took off my shoes and tossed my jacket over the back of his desk chair. As we crawled under the covers together, I was a bit mesmerized by how natural all of this had felt. This was only my first time seeing Eren's bedroom, and yet, as we cuddled beneath the covers and caressed each other's skin, it felt as if we'd done this millions of times before. In turn, Eren's composed demeanor had me wondering if he was feeling just the same.

"...You really wanted to see me?" Eren whispered. I could feel his fingers trailing up my torso, stopping at the center of my collar bone before trailing back down.

"Yeah, I did," was my response. It was only fair of me to get an answer out of him, as well, right? "You really wanted to hear my voice?"

"Levi, that's-"

Embarrassing, right? He'd already said that in his text message. What I wanted to hear from him was an answer, not an excuse.

Taking his hand into my own to stop him from toying around with my chest, I eased myself forward just enough to press my lips against the hollowed shape beneath his ear. Rubbing my nose against the piercings that he refused to take out even as he slept, I whispered once more, "Answer me, Eren. Did you really want to hear my voice?"

It may not have been verbal, but Eren's answer was audible enough that I'd accepted it as one. Curling against me as he sighed breathlessly, Eren's head had tipped back and forth in a timid nod. When he'd clutched his hand against mine, I could already tell that he'd wanted to hear more. Since when did Eren have a thing for my voice? He'd never mentioned anything about it before, so why now? Maybe that road trip really had done us some good. Hell, I'd only been gone for a day, but it was a day of knowing that I would be completely inaccessible that had Eren thinking all about my voice, apparently.

With my lips still pressed against the hollow of his ear, I continued to whisper sweet nonsense against him. At this point, I probably could have started reciting the national anthem and he would have thought that it was sexy, but I figured that'd be stepping over a boundary of some sort. Besides, all of the things I'd been saying to Eren were things that I'd been  _wanting_ to say to him all day long.

But after a while, everyone gets tired of hearing their own voice. And so, I made Eren do a little speaking of his own. I had him tell me about his day, before I had him tell me where he wanted to be kissed. He'd been more reluctant about the latter, but his hesitance didn't stop him from making his first request: his neck.

Taking my lips to his tattooed skin, I left the softest of kisses over those falling roses and petals he had inked in memory of his mother. It always felt a bit awkward kissing him in an area that had been marked by such a morbid memory, but if he was the one requesting it, I couldn't deny him.

Next, he'd asked me to kiss him beneath his chin. That was somewhere I hadn't really thought about kissing him on my own terms, so I was pleasantly surprised when I realized just how must he was enjoying himself, after I'd angled my lips in just the right way to grant him his wish.

And lastly, of course, he'd asked for me to kiss him on his lips.

The longest of any of our previous kisses from the night, this one had really taken the cake. He and I had started off slowly, sensually, just as we always had, but instead of rising into the escalated, heated lip-lock that we both loved so much, we remained stagnant, kissing one another at that same, slow and lazy pace all night long.

I continued kissing Eren, until it felt like his lips were the ones leaving mine. At first, I thought that it was because he was about to make another request, but no more than a second later, I realized that hadn't been the case. With eyes that were hardly holding up and a head that was already nestling into his pillow, Eren was falling asleep. And honestly, after a kiss like that, he was taking me along with him.

Wrapping my arms around his shoulders and bringing him closer to the curve of my torso, I held him there, feeling the beat of his heart against mine. I knew that I loved him. I knew that I loved Eren, but I didn't realize just  _how much_ until today. Until I'd seen Jean. Until I'd told Erwin. And while I would never tell Eren about what went down in that coffee shop, there was one thing that I would never question having to tell him again; and that was that I loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> Kind of a whole lot of nothing going on in that chapter, and that's because we're on the final stretches of this fanfic! Can you believe it? I honestly can't.
> 
> When I first started writing TMPF, I really underestimated just how much I would end up doing with it. I'd wanted this fanfic to be something quick and fun to write after finishing up F&F, but it ended up turning into a full-length project just as well, haha! But I honestly don't regret it for a second. The overwhelming amount of positive feedback that I've received because of this story has made writing each chapter every week worth the effort and worth the work, so thank you very much for all of you that have stuck around until this point in the story! I greatly appreciate it!
> 
> And of course, thank you for taking the time to read!
> 
> \- Chappy


	28. Pastel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminiscing and aesthetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been proofread. I apologize for any and all mistakes. I will be proofreading and editing this chapter soon.

We're always making sacrifices; whether they're big or small is left to be determined. Simple sacrifices happen on the daily. We sacrifice the comfort and warmth of our beds, giving ourselves up to the harsh reality of adulthood. While children at heart, we force ourselves to do repetitive adult things like maintaining a job, fetching the groceries at the supermarket, and being social butterflies even when our wings would much rather be wrapped up in a bundle of blankets.

There are bigger sacrifices, of course, and their importance is once again left up to the eyes of the behold. These such sacrifices include the loss of a lover, the act of placing others before oneself, and generally just leaving all aspects of one's own hopes and desires behind for the dreams and achievements of others.

Eren made a sacrifice for me, and I would never let him forget it.

I never asked him about it, so I would never know for certain, but I am more than positive that the only reason why Eren had to place a hold on his entry and withdraw himself from the Artists' Bizarre was because of our stupid bargain; the one we'd made with minty lips under a sky full of stars. Eren had promised me without much explanation that he would make my asinine dream of painting the town a reality, and with his next appointment came the proposition of painting photographs along with confused emotions of how we both felt for each other.

It's funny to think back to those times, how they were only months behind us, yet felt like centuries ago. Back then, we were both stuck still sorting things out. Eren made a cocky show of being flirtatious with me, while I remained reclusive in my dome of denial. Fingernails jammed with paint and skin smeared with color from the night before did nothing to convince me otherwise of my feelings for the insufferable brat. Hell, what a fool I had been.

I still remember how Hanji had reacted with less than subtle distaste for our relationship, when I'd informed her of our status. She'd warned me of breaking _his_ heart, as if mine were nothing more than a scrap of paper to be torn and tossed away with no regrets. But I understood where she was coming from, as her thoughts and concerns aligned with my own. Eren's heart had already been broken once; I wasn't going to be the man who broke it again.

Oh, and speaking of less than subtle distaste, how could I forget the glorious afternoon when I'd finally met Eren's lovely roommate? I'd been so taken aback by a man of his size, hobbling around like some gigantuous sheep, taking orders from a girlfriend who'd whipped him harder than a horse on race day.

Ah, but the moment Eren had left the room, that woolen coat came off and his inner wolf had made itself known, spouting the same concerns -- although these were more akin with threats -- that Hanji had told me not so long ago. Don't break his heart. Don't hurt him. He's already been hurt once. I suppose even friend and foe alike have a tendency to misjudge someone's character. Oh, well. His half-head tattoo ended up being some of my best work, and I think his feelings of aggression toward me had softened slightly after seeing my masterful handiwork; though, I can never say that for certain.

After all of this reminiscing, why not allow myself to indulge in my more intimate memories as well? Like the first night Eren had spent over my place, for example. I remember how he and I had both purchased each other's favourite flavors of ice cream without knowing that the other had done the prior. I remember kissing him with a passion unlike before, how a simple label such as "date" could make my head spin and my heart feel numb. I remember falling asleep on the floor, waking the next morning to sore bones and the sorrowful notion of the workday ahead of me. I remember seeing a masterpiece; not of my creations, but of my claim. Eren. My Eren. The kid that I was falling in love with, and the sunrise that helped me realize it all.

Falling in love was just the same as those falling, fiery leaves, circling around our heads like Heavenly halos as we rolled across the roots of the lover's oak tree. That night had been a surprise for more reasons than I can name, but beside the fact that Eren had chosen not to disclose the location of our date, or that he had learned of my brief affair with Hanji back in college, what I remembered most was that lazy, lustful look in his eyes as we toppled over each other underneath that infamous tree, saying the words that we'd both been holding onto for so long, only to finally feel comfortable enough to let them leave our lucky lips.

I remember the first night I met Eren, how I couldn't even stand the sight of him. I remember the last night I spent with him, how I held him in my arms and kissed his neck with a love like no other. How times have changed, huh? I guess that's why it's always interesting to look back, to wonder, to reminisce, and think. What would my life be like if Eren had never been a part of it? The same, I suppose. But man, the more I think about it, the more I can't imagine my life without Eren in it now. He's gotten himself wedged beneath my skin, pulsing throughout my veins, and capturing my heart more than I'd like to admit. This just takes us back to the whole "love is a strength, love is a weakness" debate, huh? Now I feel like a hypocrite.

That's what Eren does to me. He makes me think in contradiction, and has me seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. Damn it. I'm so in love with him. How did this even happen? I guess I'd better start reminiscing some more to remind myself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

On the night before the Artists' Bizarre, Eren had called me in a panic. At first, I'd thought that something serious had happened with the way that he couldn't even piece two words together and have them make any sort of sense, but when he'd explained his dilemma in a much calmer demeanor, I have to say that I was a bit pissed off. He'd gotten me all worked up, because I'd forgotten to give him the supposed "final batch" of photographs that needed painting. There were finished, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that they weren't in his possession, and that left me feeling more than perturbed at one in the morning.

"What's the big deal?" I asked, trying to clear the sleep out of my voice. "Can't I just give them to you tomorrow when we meet up at the Bizarre?"

Eren was firm in his tone, when he'd said, "No, it has to be sometime before then. The Bizarre is already going to be hectic enough, I don't want to risk loosing them."

That sounded like a load of crap to me, but at the current hour and the current state of my wakefulness, I was willing to believe him. "You can stop by shop tomorrow morning and pick them up then, if you're really that desperate." Sighing, I rolled onto my stomach and tried to make better sense of why all of this even mattered. "Want to tell me  _why_ this needs to be done so urgently?"

"Not particularly." Um. Okay, then. "But everything will make sense soon. I promise."

I obviously had no idea what he meant by that. Seeing as Eren was never really one to be cryptic, he must have had a good reason for it. Whatever. I was exhausted, and he'd interrupted my sleep.

Regardless of that tiny little fact, we ended up staying on the phone with one another for about an hour after he'd called. We didn't really have anything in particular to talk about; it was nice just being able to hear each other's voices.

Even though Eren was the one who had called me in the first place, he was also the one who had hung up first. Well, I shouldn't say that necessarily, because he didn't actually  _hang up_ . He fell asleep. This wasn't new. It had happened before, and I can always tell when it's about to happen, too. His breathing grows heavy before it gets soft, and his sentences take up a random infrequency. I can still remember this one time, when we'd been in the middle of talking about something stupidly romantic, Eren had mentioned how he'd eaten cereal for breakfast that morning before conking out. 

The very same thing happened during this phone call.

Well, I shouldn't say that. Eren didn't start talking about his cereal consumption, and we weren't in the middle of spouting out romance, but we were talking, and he did end up getting off topic.

When I'd been in the midst of reminding Eren that it was okay for him to stop by the shop in the morning to pick up the pictures, he'd stated something about how the sky would be really cool if it were purple instead of blue, and that's when I knew I'd lost him.

Softly wishing him a good night, I disconnected our call and placed my cell phone back onto my nightstand with a horrendous yawn. I was going to be beyond tired tomorrow morning, but hey, what else is new? I'd just have to get my cup of coffee as usual and bear the burden of fatigue like I always did. Still, I couldn't shake my confusion over Eren's immediate concerns about those photographs. There hadn't even been that many in the last envelope -- I'd counted four, maybe five -- so what was the major rush to get his hands on them so suddenly? He said I'd find out soon enough, but when was "soon enough"  _ever_ soon enough?

I ran my fingers through the messy hairs of my fringe, before flopping onto my side and closing my eyes. Sleep wasn't going to come easily after a conversation like that and I knew it, but it didn't hurt to at least try. Fortunately, my fatigue outweighed my unsettled mind and I was out like a light within minutes.

The next morning, as per usual, I awoke to the blaring annoyance that is the alarm clock setting on my cell phone, before swiping off and rolling out of bed. Showering felt nice, but only because those warm waters and the welcoming steam that rose like clouds around my limbs reminded me of the blanketing bedsheets I'd been snoozing under not all that long ago.

After my shower, I cursed myself for not shaving  _before_ my shower, but ended up shaving anyway. Eren made a comment -- I forget when, but I remember he was the one who'd said it -- about how he liked the look on my face when I showed off a little bit of stubble, but hated how it felt against his skin when we kissed. It that wasn't reason enough for me to keep up with my shaving, knowing that we'd be attending the Artists' Bizarre that evening was.

About a week before the Bizarre's set date, Eren had read texted me a small sampling of the requirements for such a snazzy event. Honestly, I didn't know what I'd been expecting in the first place, but it sure as Hell hadn't been what Eren had sent me. Who knew that artists had rules, when it came to viewing their artwork?

To ensure the utmost pleasurable viewing experience for you and your fellow observers, please keep these following guidelines in mind.  **1.** No food OR beverages allowed. Desserts and refreshments will be provided in the main lobby, but the consumption of such treats is forbidden in the gallery. **2.** Semi-formal attire is required. T-shirts and sneakers are prohibited. Informal suits and dresses are advised.  **3.** Speaking in a volume above a whisper is frowned upon and may result in being evicted from the gallery. Thank you.

I didn't know whether to laugh or scoff after reading the somewhat lengthy list of seemingly pointless rules, but decided that neither reaction was worth my time. I'd simply replied to Eren with nothing more than an ' **Okay** ,' to such a string of statements and that was that.

But back shaving. After prepping my face with the puffy white cream and getting out my razor, I made sure to achieve the closest shave possible to ensure the utmost pleasurable viewing experience for me and my fellow observers. Ugh.

As I was getting dressed, I shot Hanji a quick text to let her know that Eren would be at the shop sometime that morning. I didn't know when exactly, so just in case he ended up showing up before I got there, I wanted to give her a heads up about his arrival. Luckily, she didn't question why Eren would be there and replied to my message with a simple ' **Okey dokey**.'

Other than my face, I didn't care how I looked during the day. I threw on a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt (a horrible sight to those at the Bizzare) and headed out the front door with a jacket folded over my inked arms. I knew that I'd have time to head home after our early closing tonight (it was the day before Christmas Eve, and while I may have been Jewish, Hanji was not) to freshen up and grab a quick change of clothes. As for now, however, there was nothing wrong with what I was wearing.

Petra was as happy as ever to see me that morning, and with my usual order already waiting for me on the counter, she kept my routine as efficient as ever. I made sure to wish her well on her holidays, before slipping her a hefty tip for all of her hard work. She deserved it, after all, and whether or not it made her co-workers jealous, I really didn't care. She was the only one who ever gave a damn about how I liked my coffee.

The flow of traffic had been manageable enough that morning, where I'd been able to make it to the shop no later than 8:30, giving me more than enough time to set up for my 9 o' clock appointment with not only a first time customer, but a first timer to the painful magic that is tattoo artistry, so that was sure to be a blast. Although, it was my hope that Eren would show up sometime before then so that I wouldn't have to walk away from my work in order to hand over the photos.

After pulling into the lot of loose gravel and getting out of my car with my coffee and the envelope of painted photographs in tow, I headed into the shop, where I was greeted warmly by Hanji. She was all decked out in her flashy Christmas sweater and bouncy green beads, taking full advantage of the one day out of the year that she was allowed to dress this eccentric. The shop was closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and wearing Christmas sweaters  _ after _ Christmas was just plaid old tacky, so really, today was her final chance to be festive.

"Good morning, Levi!"

I acknowledged her greeting with a simple nod, as I took a small sip from my coffee cup. "Anything new added or removed from the schedule today?"

"Uh, I'm not sure, actually. Hold on. Let me check."

As Hanji pulled out our notebook schedule and sifted through the months until she made it to December, I headed into the back room to grab some more latex gloves. I'd noticed that we were getting low on them the night before, but had forgotten to actually retrieve them until just now.

"Doesn't look like anything's changed!" Hanji announced, loud enough so that I could hear her from the back. "You still have your 9 o' clock appointment with Lacy, and Gerard is going to stop by later to finish up his shading with me. Other than that, we're just waiting on walk-ins like usual."

"Sounds like a plan."

After getting things set up for my client, I was surprised to see her walking through the front door a whole ten minutes earlier than her scheduled time. First timers were always like that, though. They never really understood the immediacy that came with getting a tattoo. So long as we -- the artists -- know what you want on your body ahead of time and have the sketches all prepped on paper and ready to go, then we're just that: we're ready to go.

For the most part, my session with Lacy had gone pretty smoothly, but a rush of adrenaline got the better of her near the end of her appointment, sending her running off to the bathroom in the back room to dry heave. Listen up, kids. If you're planning on getting a tattoo any time soon, please, for the love of God, eat a full meal before I start stabbing needles into you. It would be very much appreciated.

Easing herself through the air of embarrassment that lingered from having to run off so suddenly, we were able to finish up the line work of the design on her thigh in no time at all. After that was all said and done, I treated her leg with a simple solution before wrapping it up in plastic to preserve the work. With her next appointment scheduled for a few weeks into the New Year, Hanji and I wished her well as we saw her off, advising that she stop at the small café down the road and get some food into her unsettled system.

As the morning continued to roll along, I began to grow a bit antsy. Eren had made it sound like getting those pictures was super important, so why was it taking him so long to show up? I guess my irritability wasn't as masked as I'd hoped it had been, for Hanji started giggling when she asked, "Missing your boyfriend?"

I sighed and told her to shut up, to which she only laughed all the more.

"You look so sweet like that, though," she explained. "Like a little schoolgirl who's waiting for her crush to read the love letter she wrote for him and delicately placed into his locker with care."

Raising an eyebrow at her, I turned my attention over to Hanji. The expression that I wore could easily be described as that of a "What the Hell?" moment. "Are you speaking from experience, or are you speaking metaphorically?"

She didn't answer. She was definitely speaking from experience.

The sound of tires treading over the gravel lot quickly put an end to that uncomfortable conversation. Both looking toward the vast window that separated the shop from the sidewalk, it was with a sigh of relief that I saw Eren's car pulling into a parking spot and not some random customer; or Gerard for that matter.

Now, hold up for a second. I don't mean to sound like a "bad boyfriend" or a "horrible person" for saying this, but I've never actually found Eren's aesthetic to be all that pleasing. Sure, there were certain aspects about his appearance that I loved like his number of piercings and his stupid sunrise eyes, but the whole package? Not quite.

He had a tendency of wearing these grotesque, pastel outfits that made me cringe at the sight of them. Nothing ever matched, and nothing seemed like it belonged on his body. Hey, I'm no connoisseur of fashion, but even I can tell when an outfit needs to go.

Today was a new day, however, and today was the day that Eren broke my low standards of his apparel. In short, he blew my freaking mind away.

When Eren stepped out of his car, he took my breath with him. It was only 11 in the morning, but he was clearly already dressed for an evening at the Bizarre. Boasting the brilliance of a casual, yet formal and fitting suit, I watched as he fixed his hair -- which he had styled differently -- in one of his side mirrors. His suit was an unusual color, that of a dark red, or maybe closer to a burgundy, but it matched his dyed fringe so perfectly that I couldn't say a word. I could only think. And what did I think? That should have been obvious.

Damn it. He looks hot.

It didn't help that people naturally took up a different pep in their step when their wore suits as opposed to other forms of clothing. Walking in long, confident strides, Eren made his way onto the sidewalk before formally entering the shop with a bright grin on his face. Thankfully, Hanji had been the one to greet him first; I currently had a tongue that needed a lot of untying.

"Look at you!" she spoke up cheerfully. "You look so handsome, Eren!"

Laughing bashfully enough that one could tell that Eren appreciated the comment, yet already knew it himself, he brought a hand to the back of his neck and began to scratch it anxiously. "Thanks, Hanji. That means a lot."

Inevitably so, I could see Eren turning his head toward me next. He was probably waiting for my greeting to him, hoping I'd have another compliment that would feed his ego. As you know, I did have one, but I sure as Hell wasn't going to say something like that out loud.

Keeping it simple, I said, "I agree with Hanji. You look very nice, Eren."

It took Eren a moment, before he'd replied with an almost uncertain, "Thank you," following that up by saying, "Coming from you, that's pretty huge."

He was right. It  _ was  _ huge, so he'd better appreciate the thrill of knowing that I found him attractive while it lasted. That, or, you know, he could just start wearing semi-formal attire more often.

And I think what I found the most pleasing about his outfit was that, even though he was wearing a collared shirt with a tie to match, you could still just barely see the pretty petals of his neck tattoo peeking from behind the collar of his shirt. It added such a nice touch to his overall appearance that I'm sure my eyes must have been glossing over at the sheer sight of him. 

But enough of that teenage gawking. How disgusting. Eren was here for a purpose, and I could already tell from his impatient bouncing on the balls of his feet that he was ready to get what he came here for and leave.

Without putting his purpose into words, I was already heading for the front counter before he could even ask about the photographs. I knew why he was here. We all knew why he was here. He didn't have to waste his breath over it. And so, after grabbing the envelope and strolling back over to where he stood, I handed him the pile of pictures and said, "They're all in there. All five of them." I'd counted them, when my car was stopped at a red light on the way to work that morning.

Eren must have detected the subtle sarcasm in my tone, for he wore a tiny smirk on his face as he tucked the photos safely away into his suit jacket's inner pocket. "Thank you very much for your cooperation, Levi. I appreciate it."

Somehow, it felt like he was thanking me for much more than handing over those photos, but I didn't question it. What I did question, however, was his urgency about the matter. "So, are you going to tell me why you absolutely needed to have those pictures today?"

"Yes." He paused. "But not right now. You'll find out soon enough."

Eren's arrival had been just as swift as his departure, because once he had those pictures in his possession, he was already making his way for the front door once more. Turning his head back to give both Hanji and I a final wave, he thanked me again for handing over the photos, this time adding the ever eloquent, "And I'll see you tonight, Levi."

If I'd forgotten why I'd fallen in love with that kid in the first place, this morning had served as a lovely reminder, because Hell, I had always been a sucker for a good challenge.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here! 
> 
> First and foremost, I'd like to apologize for posting this chapter so late! But here it is, and I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Like I said in my last author's note, the end of this story is upon us! I predict there to be only about three, maybe four more chapters with the addition of an epilogue before this fanfic reaches its conclusion. It's been a wild ride, and I'm more than grateful to all of you who have joined me on this wild ride!
> 
> Once again, I'm so sorry for how late I'm posting this, and thank you, as always, for taking the time to read!
> 
> \-- Chappy (:


	29. Neon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are just really vague.

There is both a thrill and an annoyance to being vague. The thrill comes from the notion of surprise, the feeling of the unknown, whereas the annoyance spurs from the spirals of that very same sensation, that very same unknown. It's a lack of conclusiveness - the absence of a period and the addition of the ellipses - that leaves us both biting our fingernails and pulling at our hair, holding onto the wonder and the worry of what is yet to come.

And damn it, does Eren love to be vague.

This isn't something new, the concept of his crypticness, that is. Eren has always loved to leave me hanging on the edges of his coattails, waiting for him to give me the answers that I'm seemingly always grabbing for. And honestly, it wasn't until the incidents of this morning that made me realize just how vague Eren had been about this whole picture-painting bargain in the first place. I'm going to make your dream come true. I took pictures of the town for you. Paint them. Okay, now give them back. Heh, now that I've given myself some more time to think about it, just what the Hell kind of deal is that? I guess I'd been so satisfied with the strokes and sensations of my saturated fingertips gliding across every image that I hadn't really cared whether or not I would be keeping those pictures in my possession. I was having fun, I was feeling inspired, and that's all that mattered to me.

After Eren had left the shop, pulling his car out of the unpaved lot shortly thereafter, it would have been a Hell of a lie to say that things went back to the way they were before he showed up. Not only did Eren's air of mystery loiter around the shop after his departure, it was nearly suffocating.

But as with time, the day continued to progress, and so did my curiosities. I couldn't help but wonder what the big rush was, the rush that had him needing those pictures so soon. Wouldn't it have been better if he had just waited until his next appointment with me? Apparently not.

My mind had been so clouded by my complicated thoughts that I found it hard to concentrate on anything, even simple tasks that I would have normally been able to do in my sleep. It wasn't until I'd made the stupid mistake of swapping airbrush ink with liquid ink that Hanji jabbed some light-hearted fun at me. "You know, Levi," she spoke out, from where she was standing across the shop, "ever since Eren came here this morning, it's like you haven't had your head screwed on properly. Too busy thinking about tonight?"

"I don't know," I answered simply, before telling her to stop talking. Hanji had never been one to listen, though.

"Oh, Levi," I heard her sigh. "I don't think I've ever seen you this beside yourself before. It's like you don't know what to do with yourself, and it's adorable!"

The mystical happiness in her voice pissed me off to the point where I didn't respond to her. Oh, but that only got her talking even more. I should have known that Hanji wouldn't let this topic die lightly.

I watched her with deliberate disgust as she twirled a lock of her hair around the tip of a pen, scoffing as the ballpoint got snagged in one of her unruly mats. "Levi, if I'm not mistaken here, I think Eren is just as excited about tonight as you are. Actually, I have a feeling that he might be even  _more_ excited than you."

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see about that," I said, with a sigh. Great. More waiting.

Pulling the pen out of her hair and sticking it back into the cup where it belonged, Hanji shrugged her shoulders and walked around the edge of the front counter. As she leaned against it lazily, oozing a demeanor of confidence, she folded her arms, shrugged her shoulders, and said, "I don't know, Levi. I mean, with the way he came in here looking like a million bucks and all, I'd say that Eren's really trying to impress you by taking you to this Bizzare thing tonight. But hey, I suppose you're right. We'll just have to wait and see."

Quite frankly, I didn't know if it was the mixed messages that she was sending me, or the fact that Hanji remained so cool throughout her little speech that pissed me off more. Whatever. I wasn't going to let her get to me. She wasn't what I needed to focus on. What I  _did_ need to focus on, however, was getting sticky liquid ink out of my airbrush gun. How nice.

By the time we were ready to close up the shop, Hanji was humming Christmas carols to herself, while I was placing all of my efforts into tuning her out. It was nearly 5PM, and with the Bizzare starting at around 7PM, I had a good two hours to get home, get dressed, and grab something to eat. Hopefully I'd find some time to squeeze a shower in there somewhere.

With the neon lights becoming null of their luminescence, our shop went from being open to closed for the holiday, and with such a realization, Hanji began to cheer. "Yahoo!" she yelped, pumping her fists into the air. "Christmas is here! Christmas is finally here!"

"Hold your horses," I told her, as I finished flipping over our front door's welcome sign. "It's not even Christmas Eve yet. You still have two more days to go."

Hanji pointed her finger at me and shook her head. Obviously, she didn't agree with me. "Since today is technically almost over, and tomorrow is practically the festive appetizer to Christmas Day, um, yeah. Christmas is here."

I rolled my eyes at her, as I ventured toward the front counter to grab my car keys, as well as the keys for the shop. Whatever she wanted to believe was fine with me. I had more important things to focus on, and it wasn't so surprising that most of those things revolved around Eren.

Even though she'd been picking fun at me for the majority of the day, and even though she was an exasperation to my eardrums with all of her Christmas singing, I wished Hanji a Merry Christmas and invited her to come with me to my car after we'd gotten ourselves ready and locked up the shop.

It wasn't much - and even that was an overstatement - but I'd bought her a Christmas card sometime last week. It was one of those singing ones, just as loud and as annoying as her. She loved it, of course, and as an added bonus, I told her how of much she meant to me as both a friend and as an employee. That brought on the waterworks, more than I'd been expecting, and as she wildly wrapped her arms around me and held my body close to hers, she thanked me dearly and wished me well with the events of my evening that had yet to unfold.

The ride back to my apartment was a quiet one. I chose to keep the radio off, not wanting the melodies to mix with my thoughts. In doing so, I'd managed to settle my head a good sum before pulling into the lot of my complex and heading into my building. Making my way up pine needle-infested stairways, I strolled down the hall - decked with bounds of holly - and stopped at my corner apartment.

Once I was "safely" inside - I'm only joking - I checked my cell phone for the time and made a beeline for the shower when I noticed how late it was getting. There was no way I was going to show up to Eren's campus looking like a sweaty mess. He'd made a good impression on me, and I wanted to do just the same for him. God, we were ridiculous.

After my shower came the daunting task of picking out the right outfit. Now, I think it goes without saying that I'm not your average, "semi-formal" kind of guy. Hell, I even debated whether or not I should just buy a brand-new outfit for this whole damn thing, but I ended up decideding against it at the last minute. As I surveyed the contents of my closet, I kind of wished that I hadn't.

Surrounded by a sea of t-shirts, sweaters, and not much in between, I was basically raking hangers across the racks, trying to find a blazer - any blazer would do - that would turn my somewhat slobbish attire into something, you guessed it,  _semi-formal_.

One black blazer, sweater, and pair of pants later, I cursed at my cell phone when I realized that I wasn't going to have enough time to eat. Oh, well. Food was a small sacrifice to make for punctuality.

While I still had my cell phone out, I scrolled through the logs of text messages that Eren had sent to me, trying to find the one message where he'd given me the directions from my apartment to his campus. From the looks of it, I was in for a forty-minute drive. Fantastic. But hey, at least I wasn't going to be late.

Just making the last few minutes of the rush hour, I thanked the Heavens above for the lack of traffic on the highways. In fact, after driving around for a bit, I'd managed to make such good time that I pulled off an exit before the one that I needed to take to get to Eren's college campus and grabbed a bite to eat at one of the rest stop McDonald's. I say "one" because I kid you not, there were like, five of them on that one exit. Anyway, after I had a hamburger and some unsalted fries in my system, I was ready to take on the last leg of my journey.

I have to admit, for the haphazard, horribly drawn out directions that Eren had given me, I was pretty damn proud of myself for making it to his college without getting lost. Maybe I should have put more faith into my navigational skills...or maybe not.

The joys of college campuses are that, while they're not only the biggest brainteaser to navigate, they're also crawling - and in some drunken cases, I literally mean  _crawling_ \- with students. As I drove through the main entrance of the campus and tried to weave my way past the population, I decided that I didn't really care where I parked or how far away I was from where the Artists' Bizzare was being held. As long as I found a spot, I would be happy.

Pulling up into what appeared to be a visitor lot, I held my breath as I reared my vehicle around a pick-up truck and a van, and sighed in relief when I'd successfully squeezed myself in between the both of them. Navigational skills? Check. Parking skills? Also check.

Just as I'd squeezed my car in between the two vehicles that doubled my size, I was forced to also squeeze myself out of my car in the very same manner. I'd said it once, but I'd say it again: oh, the joys of college campuses.

But as I stepped onto the sidewalk and surveyed my surroundings, I had to admit that the place didn't look all that bad. In fact, it vaguely resembled the way my campus back in New Jersey had looked. There were lots of wide and open areas for walking, with buildings square in shape and scattered all about the surface. Just being back at school, even if it wasn't my own, made me feel horribly nostalgic.

At first, the sight of so many students hadn't fully fazed me. A college is a college, right? There's bound to be students everywhere. But then it dawned on me; aren't these students already on winter break? From what I could recall from my days back in school, final exams usually happened during the first week of December, and then after that, you were free. Did that mean that all of these kids were here because of the Bizzare? If so, that was pretty incredible.

I must have counted my chickens too early, because as I found myself getting lost on the campus, I could also feel myself getting lost in my thoughts. So many things about the structures of the buildings and the curves in the pathways reminded me of my college days. There were even statues of astrologers and philosophers that reminded me of the plastered prodigies that Hanji and I used to sketch for hours on end, as we sat on the grassy centers in front of the art gallery. Man, those were the carefree days, when all we had to worry about were drawing deadlines and having too much paint underneath our fingernails.

As I continued to walk aimlessly about the campus, my hands in the pockets of my blazer, it was when my fingers smoothed along the edges of my cell phone that I figured I'd better shoot Eren a text to let him know that I was there, well, wherever I was. I mean, we'd promised to meet up outside of the main building that hosted all of the fine arts studies and then walk over to the art gallery together, but after checking one of the standing maps that were ever, so kindly located in various areas about the campus for the convenience of outsiders, I soon realized that I was no where near our rendezvous point. Fantastic.

Pulling out my cell and pulling up Eren's contact, I began typing out my message, but only got as far as ' **Hey, I'm here but I'm-** ' when I heard a voice calling out to me, a voice that definitely did not belong to Eren. If not him, then who the Hell else knew me on this campus?

Turning toward the sound, I quickly saw a bushel of blond hair running my way. I knew I knew that kid from somewhere, but at the moment, I couldn't put my finger on where. He did seem oddly familiar, though. Oh, yeah. Wasn't this kid Eren's best friend, or something? Andrew, was it? Andy...? No, wait. I'm pretty sure it was like, 'Armin' or something.

"Levi, hey!" he continued to call out, as his frantic footsteps collided with the pavement. By the time he'd reached where I'd been standing, he was helplessly out of breath. "What are...what are you doing...all the way down here?"

Waiting for him to filter some more oxygen into that big brain of his, I soon thereafter answered, "I don't know. I guess I kind of got lost." Although, now that I had Armin with me (was his name really Armin?), not knowing where I was was no longer going to be a problem. After giving him some more time to breathe, I added, "Actually, I was just about to text Eren when I heard you calling out to me. Do you know where he is?"

Armin's position was a rather pathetic sight to see. Hunkered over with his hands firmly pressed against his kneecaps, I had to wonder if a kid like him had ever exercised. Like, ever. After pulling himself together and fixing the wrinkles in his dress shirt, Armin nodded his head, and said, "He's waiting for in the art gallery. It's funny, but I actually got a text from him to tell me to tell  _you_ that I'd be walking with you to the gallery instead of him."

Okay...? Why...? I mean, don't get me wrong, Armin's a nice kid and all - even if I couldn't remember his name a few minutes ago - but weren't Eren and I supposed to walk to the gallery together? Wasn't tonight supposed to be a date night - or at least something along those lines - for the both of us? Honestly, I had no idea what was going on anymore, but I was already so beyond the point of one's normal standards of being comfortable with confusion that I just didn't really care. If Armin was going to be the one to walk me to the art gallery, Hell, then so be it.

We started walking toward the main building that I'd been planning to meet Eren in front of. As Armin and I were walking, I allowed my mind to play around with even more memories from my college days, relishing in the recreation of it all. While reliving the better times of my past was a nice, refreshing feeling, it was the present that I needed to focus on. Yeah, and so much for the whole "not caring about Eren not telling my anything" thing, because as soon as Armin stopped fiddling around with his neck tie, I asked him, "Hey, do you know why Eren's been acting so strange lately?"

With wide eyes and a suddenly skittish demeanor, Armin gave off a nervous laugh, as he quickly questioned, "Wh-what do you mean by that, Levi?"

"First of all, Eren stopped by my shop earlier to pick up some pictures. He made the whole ordeal seem so urgent, yet he wouldn't tell me why. He just kind of brushed it off as being some sort of secret, I guess. And now, it's this whole thing with him already being inside of the gallery? It's not like it's a big deal, but he and I were supposed to walk there together. I guess I just don't understand why he's being so stand-offish about all of this, and I'm wondering if you know anything about it."

I could physically see Armin's facial features drop into a fit of anxiety, as he fought for the right words, the ones that he knew that Eren would approve of. "Uh, I mean, I don't really think Eren's being all that strange. Maybe he's just...he just really wanted those pictures and he didn't want to forget about them, or something. Or maybe he needed them for something silly, like a project- what? No! Wait! Not a project, no! Forget I even said that!"

Easier said than done, Armin. It's kind of hard to forget about something after someone makes a big deal out of it, which was exactly why it was so difficult for me to wrap my head around the situation as a whole. I wanted answers, that's truly all I wanted, yet all I was given in return was my boyfriend's blathering best friend; a best friend who clearly knew more than he was letting on. Oh, well. There was nothing I could do about it, and so I let his secrecy slide.

The rest of our walk along campus was rather quiet. Armin occasionally mumbled some nonsense to himself, whereas I found sentimental solace in my surroundings. I honestly never imagined to miss the laid back nature of a college environment so much. Around here, everything seemed so peaceful. No one was seen rushing about like the madmen they were in high school. Everyone simply walked to their destinations like calm, well-mannered adults for the most part.

And speaking of destinations, when Armin and I had finally reached ours, I couldn't have been more thrilled. Not only did arriving at the art gallery mean that I could finally see Eren, it also meant that I would have my much awaited answers. Well, that's what I was hoping for, at least.

Entering through large, glass doors (why were the entrances to art galleries always so sterile?), Armin and I, along with a few other students who had clustered close to us, headed up to a small desk near the front of the gallery. Standing in what was quickly becoming a rather long line, I reached into one of the pockets of my blazer and pulled out a thin ticket. It was to my knowledge that students were allowed to attend the Artists' Bizzare for free, so long as they brought their I.D. with them. For someone like me, the purchase of a ticket was necessary. Thankfully, Eren had handed me my ticket of admission right after I'd agreed to come with him to the Bizzare some two or three weeks ago. It's amazing how time flies.

Armin made it up to the desk first, and with a flash of his student I.D. card, he was granted a nod and given...a box of thumb tacks? Oh, yeah. Hadn't Eren said something about thumb tacks being the method of voting for the best overall entry? It seemed like a strange way to go about things to me, but I guess every artist is entitled to their own opinion.

After handing the woman at the desk my ticket, receiving my box of thumb tacks in exchange, I met up with Armin at the rounded archway of the gallery's grand entrance.

"Are you ready to go inside?" he asked, clutching his thumb tacks close to his chest.

With a shrug and a nod, I agreed to letting him lead the way as we entered what might have been the most incredible, undefinable place I had ever seen. Well, I could define it, but even so, I probably wouldn't be doing it much justice.

The walls of the gallery themselves were white, complete blank slates, only to be washed with a collage of color from the portraits, paintings and various other artwork arrangements displayed about the room. Never in my life had I seen such interestingly diverse pieces of mastery, ranging from all different sorts of materials, madness, and imagination.

Like this one girl's exhibit, for example. She had created an entire landscape of perfectly puffy clouds using nothing more than straw wrappers that she'd notably acquired from her part-time job as a waitress. Needless to say, Armin and I had both given her wondrous work a thumb tack of approval.

While the paper clouds had been a positively refreshing sight to see, I did notice that there were some more "traditional" artworks hung for display, as well. One painting in particular that had caught my attention was tilted "The Storm", and the young man who was standing next to it explained that he had only used one paint from his pallet for his entire portrait: black. In order to achieve the variation in color, he'd applied different brush strokes, as well as different amounts of pressure to produce a certain distinction within the depths of the of storm clouds that hung over an unsettled sea. I gave him a thumb tack, as well.

It was strange how both of the pieces that had captured my fancy so far had more or less to do with the sky and clouds. Go figure, I suppose.

As Armin and I continued to venture about the gallery, I began to feel a bit restless. Not only because of the fact that my fingertips were practically fighting off the urge to smear paint all over the place, but also because Eren was still nowhere in sight. Armin had said that he was waiting for me inside of the gallery. Well, here we were, but where was he?

Just as I was about to turn toward Armin and ask him of Eren's whereabouts, a vision of color caught my attention and I found myself feeling inclined to get a better look.

Stepping around students who spoke in hushed whispers, I squeezed my way through the small crowd that had formed around the work of art that I found myself gravitating toward.

And when I realized why, my heart had definitely stopped.

There, spread out on the wall before me were the hours of hard work that I had put into each piece, the perfect planning that I had placed into each picture. There, where my eyes could see them not as individuals, but as a whole, were the pictures that Eren had taken, the pictures that I had painted. There, in the midst of a magical misconception, was a masterpiece that had been developed completely under wraps, unbeknownst my recognition.

"Ah, there you are, Levi. I've been waiting for you."

There was Eren. And behind him, there was the town. The entire town. The town that I had painted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> Some of you were able to guess what Eren was up to from the last chapter, and I'm proud of those of you that did! Well, now it's blatantly obvious why he needed those last five pictures, haha! Surprise! (:
> 
> And as for more surprises, I hate to break it to you all, but I'm going to be taking another small break from updating this fanfic. As it turns out, my very best friend who lives all the way across the country is going to be visiting my state next week, and with all of the excitement that'll be going on with having her around, I don't want to be a let down by giving you guys a rushed chapter; and especially not after a vital plot-point like this! I apologize for the inconvenience, but I hope that you'll be able to understand!
> 
> Anyway, that's enough rambling for now! I really do hope that you enjoyed this chapter, because wow, did I have a lot of fun writing it!
> 
> And of course, thank you for taking the time to read! Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day! (:
> 
> \- Chappy (:


	30. Gradient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams and surprises. Tonight was a night not to be forgotten.

Dreams. At first, they're an abstract concept to us, one that we are born with a fear of being unattainable. They can either crowd our thoughts or tempt us in passing, but regardless of how often or how absently we think of them, they're always there. What I've come to realize is that the definition of one's dream can be the difference between being praised or being penalized. And how ironic is it that once a person strives to succeed and takes on their dream with a flare for fortune, suddenly, it's as if the world makes a turn. The people who were credited with tearing you down in the first place are kissing your feet and staking a claim in your success. People can be so disgusting.

And then you have people like Eren.

Annoying, engaging; challenging, and charming. Never have I met a kid who was just as frustrating as he was fascinating, and damn it, do I hate him for what he did to me. But God, do I love him for what we've become.

On the night after our first date, one of impromptu planning and forged out of a hint of empathy, we shared the notion of our dreams. While Eren's dream still remains a mystery to me, he managed to open me up and learn all about mine.

And then there was the promise. That stupid promise made beneath streetlights and sparkling stars that he would makes my dream a reality, never fully explaining the lengths he would go to make it come true. The pictures, the painting, I thought that had been it. And it wasn't just the thought. I'd been  _satisfied_  with our little arrangement. I didn't care where those pictures went and what Eren had wanted to do with them. At the end of the day, those photographs were his. He'd done all of the planning, and he'd done all of the driving around. He waited until the sun beamed over broken trees and saturated scenes, doing his best to achieve the perfect shot.

Eren had done everything. All I'd done was live a lifelong dream.

With his thumbs dug deeply into the pockets of his dress pants, Eren shifted on his heels. My silence must have been baffling to him, and honestly, it was baffling to me, as well.

"So..." he spoke up again, smiling in a way that evoked his sheepishness, as well as his pride. "What do you think, Levi? It's...pretty amazing, isn't it?"

Amazing? No, that word didn't do what I was looking at justice at all. Hot coffee was amazing. Temperate weather was amazing. This? This was a freaking masterpiece, and Eren deserved to know that.

But not before I asked him, "You...did this?" As if it wasn't already obvious.

Chuckling softly as he slipped one of his hands out of his pockets, Eren rested said hand on the back of his neck. Casually, he turned his head back and looked toward the paint-stained collage that must have taken him hours upon hours to piece together. "Well, I mean," he said softly, remembering to keep his voice low in respect of the other attending guests, "I was a part of it. I took the pictures, but..."

In a motion as fluid as sunlight bending about a moon-blessed bedroom, Eren turned not his body, but his gaze. The golden gaze that ruined my life for better and for worse, and said the words that I could have only imagined to hear within my dreams.

"You painted the town, Levi."

I painted the town. Me. The man who had burdened this asinine dream for as long as he could remember, a dream that had finally been fulfilled. Albeit metaphorically, the town that I had longed to drown in color and drench in the myriad of the spectrum had finally met the match of my artistic mind. But all of this couldn't have been done without Eren. Eren was the sole reason why my abstract thoughts had been put into concrete creativity, and yet, he seemed to be subtracting himself from the equation.

Weighted steps slowed my gait, as I paced toward that wonderful wall. Seeing my dream displayed before me felt like a dream in itself - was this was it was like to undergo inception? I would have asked someone to pinch me, but the request as unnecessary. As I drew closer, Eren had taken his other hand out of his pant pocket, laying it lazily on my shoulder as he, too, began admiring the work.

I could feel his fingers curling around the form of my anatomy, almost to the point of a light squeeze. Everything about the way he was acting, from the volume of his voice to the tempo of his touch, screamed his satisfaction, although, it also played a key role in honing in on his hesitance. My muted reaction probably wasn't what he had been expecting, but it was the surprise of it all that made up for my lackluster show of appreciation. I was in shock. That was the only way to describe how I was feeling. Pure, unadulterated shock.

That, and I felt like an idiot, too.

I should have known the ulterior motives behind Eren's vague directions. I should have been able to figure out the workings of each of his equations, the answers that didn't add up. And Hell, I should have realized that when Eren said he was going to make my dream become a reality that this was what he had meant. God, could I be any more dense?

"I'm guessing you're not saying anything, because you're in shock, right?" I heard Eren say, next to my ear. I'd been too busy eyeing the evergreen edges of the warehouse I remembered painting some two or three months ago. It had been a photo in one of the first batches of pictures that Eren had given to me, but I could remember holding that image in my hand and gliding my fingertips over it like it was yesterday.

"Shock is..." I muttered, physically forcing the words from my throat. "Shock is quite the understatement, kid."

From the corner of my eye, I could see Eren biting his lower lip out of self-regard. There was no secret when it came to how pleased he was with himself, but I had a feeling that he was biting his lip for another reason, as well.

Ever since I'd learned Eren's name, the instances in which I referred to him as "kid" had become lesser and lesser. Just hearing the reminiscent nickname was clearly nostalgic for the both of us, and it had Eren stepping just that much closer to where I was standing.

"But you like it, right?"

That's Eren for you. Always in need of validation. But I can't blame him for such an innocent necessity. I can remember being the very same way when I was his age, maybe even more so. Ugh, just thinking about how much of an age difference we both boasted made me feel old.

And honestly, what kind of question was that? Did I like it? Of course I liked it. Geez, even "like" was starting to feel like an understatement, as well. What was with all of these understated words tonight? I felt like I kept having to correct Eren's use of vocabulary. First "amazing", then "shock"; now "like" was being added to the mix. What would be next, I wondered.

Maybe I'd hesitated for too long, or maybe Eren was a mindreader, because before I could even utter a response, I heard him laugh lightly, before speaking up once more. "What? Is 'like' an understatement, too?"

Hell yeah, it was. And even though it was in my nature to respond to Eren in such a classless code, we were in a _classy_  setting, prohibiting me from doing such.

Instead, I took up a more refined response, the response that I should have given him right from the get-go. "Eren, this is..." I began, slow and thoughtful, "...this is something that words can't even describe. You were... Damn it, you were just the annoying brat who needed to get a tattoo removed, and then you ending up becoming someone I couldn't get off of my mind. Now...now you're the kid who made my one and only ridiculous dream come true, and I don't even know how to thank you for it."

Silent until I reached the gracious end of my ramblings, I heard Eren scoff. "Thank me? What for? This was our deal, remember?"

As I shook my head, Eren's arm snaked its way around my shoulders, giving them a tender squeeze. I wasn't sure how I felt about that public display of his affections, but I carried on regardless. "No, it wasn't. Our deal was for you to take the pictures and for me to paint them and give them back to you. That was our deal. Eren, this," I gestured toward the wall that showcased my splendor, "this is so much more than our deal."

"Hm. I guess you didn't read the fine print, then." Oh, you suave little brat.

"Yeah, right. There was never any fine print." Shrugging him off of my shoulders, I put some distance between myself and Eren as I crept even closer toward the wall. Instead of admiring the rusty beauty of the building that burnt down last year, or the nautical spin I'd placed on the painted park bench, I eyed the amount of thumb tacks that Eren had already received for his works.

Even as I was heading toward the wall, a student snuck by my side and stuck three of his thumb tacks beneath the pictures. As he turned back, he shot me a wink and nodded at Eren in silent praise. I could only imagine how many thumb tacks Eren would end up accumulating by the end of the night.

Space was quickly proving to be Eren's enemy, because shortly after I'd distanced myself from him, he was by my side yet again. I could sense that his hand was gravitating toward my shoulder, but in an act of restraint, he held himself back. While his touch may have tapered off, his mouth was as vocal as ever. "I want to hear more of your thoughts, Levi. What do you think of how everything is arranged? Is it exactly like you've always imagined, or should something be changed?"

Was he asking me to critique my dream? Honestly, when you're with Eren, everything is an experience. Either way, I decided to humor his small request by giving the collage a more detailed observation.

Judging by how some of the pictures were slightly tilted, others completely upside down, Eren must have put some intensive thought into the placement of each of those photos. I could almost envision him mapping out the town in a sketchbook, or maybe even on a piece of notepad paper. Honestly, from what I knew of the town and from all of the memories that it held in my heart, I couldn't find a single flaw in Eren's architectural arrangement.

As I continued to gaze at the glory before me, something about the balance of the colors almost immediately caught my eye. When Eren had handed me those envelopes of pictures to paint for him, most of my creative musings had been completely at random. Sure, I'd put some thought into each, individual picture, but I'd never given the entire outlook of the town my attention as a whole.

Sweeping my vision from top to bottom and back again, I began to notice the detailed gradient I had unconsciously constructed into the work. The pictures that outlined the town's upper border seemed to mostly take on a texture of light and delicate depictions of color. The pictures that were heavily clustered toward the middle mostly mediated within a blend of mixed colors. And lastly, there was the lower border. The distinct opposite of the upper, the pictures that hung down low were generally glossed over with different shades of greys and blacks, making me question just how in the Hell had my mind managed to manifest something so uniform without even realizing it.

I granted Eren the long-awaited answer to what felt like a long-lost question. He should have known better than the ask my opinion on something so special. Of course I was going to have to analyze it for everything it was worth.

"It's perfect."

As an artist, I've come to realize that the term "perfect" is a word that is hardly ever used when it comes to describing a work of art. In fact, many artists do not even believe in the concept of perfection, basing their opinions off of the method of practice. I, myself, am one of those artists. Or rather, I used to be.

When a lack of words left me feeling like there was no possible way to describe what I was looking at, "perfect" simply came to mind. There was not a flaw to be found in the depiction of my dream, and while that may sound a bit narcissistic to a certain extent given that I was partly involved in the production of it all, I really didn't care. It was perfect. Perfect in the sense of photographic mastery, and perfect in the way of washed-over of color. Nothing could sway my reasoning on that decision.

Eren, on the other hand, must have been an artist just like me. With the world as his canvas and his camera as his utensil, he was an artist as well; an artist where "perfect" had also been removed from his complementary vocabulary.

Staring at me like I'd just grown three heads, I was almost surprised to see the hint of sensuality that lingered within those lustrous eyes of his. Nice and narrow, Eren's gaze had gone from a shade of shock to looking just a bit more satisfied than he had been before.

"Perfect...?" he questioned, his sunrise eyes never leaving mine. This was just like before. He probably couldn't believe I'd said something so earth-shattering that he needed to hear my validation. It was kind of cute.

"Yeah." Saying "yes" sounded too formal. "Yeah" was just the right amount of  _semi-formal_ to match the occasion. "It's perfect, Eren."

With Eren's teeth latching onto that lower lip of his yet again, a sly smile pulling at each of the corners, I could tell that he'd received more than he'd bargained for by taking on a project this immense. Had he seriously been expecting for me to disregard his grand efforts with a mere "thank you" and call it a day? No, Eren was going to get much more than that; and from the look on his face, I had a feeling he was ready to drag it out of me.

"Say, Levi," he said lowly, his voice somewhat sultry, "why don't you and I take a walk around the rest of the gallery? I'm sure you haven't seen all of the artworks yet."

That sounded like a fine idea to me, but there had to have been a catch. Eren wouldn't have made an innocent proposition with such a hungry look in his eye. There was something else on his mind, and I was pretty sure I was about to find out what that "something else" was rather soon.

Chances are, we were both thinking of the same thing.

It felt like a felony to leave my dream behind, only to be looked at by swarming students who couldn't stick their thumb tacks beneath the pictures any faster. One thing that I failed to mention earlier was the name that Eren had given to his work. And as Eren and I parted from the piece, I gave it one last glance from over my shoulder.

Instead of looking all around, my focus went up to the small banner that hung from the top of the town. On that banner, written in fine print that made the letters look dull in comparison to the creativity beneath them, was the name of Eren's masterpiece.  _Paint The Town_. Short, simple, and appropriately named. Beneath the painted pictures of the town, however, in even  _finer_ print, were the words  _inspired by a dream_. Man, maybe Eren hadn't been kidding when he said that I didn't read the fine print.

We shuffled past students, the box of thumb tacks that I'd been holding long discarded for the sake of Eren's hand. As he led me around corners and through corridors, my previous suspicions were proved correct when we slipped out of the Artist's Bizzare altogether and headed for one of the back hallways.

My stomach was twisted in knots, making me feel like a teenager all over again. I had no idea where we were going, but I had a feeling that the end result would be just as thrilling as the notion of not knowing.

After turning down a particularly dark corner, one that looked as if it were frequented more by ghosts rather than by humans, I felt a surge of strength push me against the wall. Ravenous lips soon followed the surge, sending shivers down my spine as they sucked and slid against my neck in rapid successions.

This night was just full of surprises, wasn't it? Who knew that after giving Eren a compliment as generous as his entire, photographic career, he would feel the need to devour my neck. Really, who knew?

Not that I minded him toying with my skin, of course. In fact, after playing through a quick recount of all of our intimate encounters, I soon realized that almost all of them involved me as the instigator of passionate pecking and prodding. This was the first time I'd seen Eren acting so forceful, so confident, and I had to say, it was a bit of a turn on.

Breathing heavily against my neck as his body rested itself against mine, I could feel Eren's hands restlessly running themselves up and down my sides. It wasn't exactly the greatest feeling in the world (and no, I'm not ticklish. Shut up), but it was a lot less awkward than having his hands hanging loosely by his sides. If anything, I preferred the slight tickle- I mean, tingle.

Taking but only a second's solace for a breath of air, I felt the shift in Eren's lips as they returned to my neck. Instead of chowing down like my pulse was his last meal on Earth, he'd slowed his rhythm. Now, he was kissing me with a purpose, taking his time and paying attention to my body's cues.

On his next break for a breath, Eren rested his forehead against my shoulder, the both of his lifting and falling as he strived leveled lungs. At first, I thought I was only imagining things, but I could have sworn that I'd heard Eren laugh. When the sound came again, slow and raspy, I knew that I'd heard him correctly. "You must think I'm ridiculous, right?" he hissed, in a hushed whisper. "Taking you away from the Bizzare just to kiss you like this... You think it's pathetic, don't you?"

Actually, it was quite the opposite. I may have been a bit wary of the idea at first, but now that Eren and I were in the back of God knows where, I couldn't have been more in tune with the sensational nostalgia of teenage youth.

I answered Eren not with words, but with the force of my mouth against his. Kissing him boldly and bitterly, I had caught him off of his guard, and that was the exact reaction that I'd been aiming to achieve.

At first, our kiss felt like a fight to see who could outmatch the other's lips, but in the inevitable end, we eventually found ourselves melting into each other. Arms wrapped around shoulders like loose scarves around necks, and legs feeling just a bit too wobbly at the knees to keep us steady. By the time we broke away for what had become an almost life-or-death situation of lack of oxygen, we were both seated on the floor. Well, to be more specific, I was on the floor. Eren was sitting within the tangled limbs of my lap.

Now that we'd gotten past the main course of our meal, it was time to focus on dessert.

With kisses as sweet and savory as the ice cream we'd shared on our first, stay-home date, Eren and I exchanged tender pecks, only to twirl our tongues when the moment felt right. But for the most part, our kisses remained short and simple, to the point where light conversation could be held in between them.

"By the way, Eren..." I began, unable to finish my thought until he had pulled away from my lips.

"Hmm?" he hummed against me. Minding his time, it took him a bit longer than I would have liked for him to let me go. Not that I had any right to complain, though. That lengthy kiss felt lovely against my lips.

When I was finally free to speak, I said, "I don't think you're pathetic. Ridiculous? Maybe a little bit, but definitely not pathetic."

Blinking at the verbal answer to a question I had already answered with my mouth, it took Eren a second to process what I'd just said. When all of my words were strung together in a compact little cluster of comprehension, he began to laugh lightly. "You really are something special, Levi. I hope you realize that."

"I do." I wasn't humble when it came to that sort of thing. "But you're special, too, Eren. In more ways than you probably even know."

Swallowing at my statement, Eren tucked a stray strand of fringe behind his ear. Since when had he been one to act so bashful? Just the motion of him shifting his gaze away from mine proved that I couldn't stress the idea enough; tonight really was a night of surprises.

I reached forward and began to toy with the strand of hair that Eren had tucked away. It was as smooth as ever, boasting the slight stickiness of a product. Eren had really gone all out for this evening. Everything from his outfit to his hair had been done up, for he was surely dressed to impress. And impress he did. Not just in the sense of his fashion, but in the work of his art, as well. There was no doubt in my mind that Eren would end up with the most thumb tacks out of any of the exhibits by the end of the night, and rightfully so. If anyone deserved and internship in the field of their trade, it was Eren.

But even if I hadn't explicitly made a mention of it, there was something else that had been on my mind for the majority of the night. Actually, it was something that stuck with me - albeit absent-mindedly - ever since Eren and I had shared out first kiss.

_His dream_. Eren's dream.

As vague as ever when it came to the details, Eren had claimed that our kiss had been a "hint" as to what his dream was. And I'm sorry, but a kiss is a horrible hint. It could lead me to believe so many things, when at the end of the day, I knew I'd get myself no where unless I just asked. There was no harm in doing that now, right? Eren had just fulfilled my dream, and I'd be damned if I didn't fulfill his.

"Eren," I breathed, tucking that pesky piece of hair behind his ear once more. "Can I ask you a kind of crazy question?"

Raising an eyebrow at that one, Eren offered a shrug of his shoulders, before saying, "Sure. What's your question?"

Now that I'd begun to make the proposition, I could feel my mouth run dry. I was going to sound like such an idiot saying what I was about to say, but it was too late to turn back now. Otherwise, I'd have to actually think of a substitute "crazy" question.

Going with my gut, I sucked in a breath and pushed aside my pride. "What's your dream, Eren?"

"...Huh?"

"Your dream," I repeated. "What is it?"

Eren seemed confused by what I was asking him, so much so that it almost felt like a bother to clarify what I was saying. For the sake of my sanity, however, I did my best to rephrase my question.

"Eren, when I first told you about my dream of painting the town, you said that you had a dream, too. When you told me that, I asked you what it was, but you refused to tell me. Instead, you kissed me, claiming that your kiss was a hint. But honestly, I'm tired of guessing. I just want you to tell me what your dream is so that I can help you make it a reality, as well. Like you did for me."

The tender look in Eren's eyes easily told me that he was genuinely touched by what I had just said. Holding his hand to his chest as if my words had caused his heart to hurt in the best kind of way, I watched him as he shook his head and smiled. At least he seemed pleased with my proposition and not opposed to it.

"Levi..." Eren said slowly, speaking my name sweetly. "I think it's nice that you want to make my dream become a reality as well, but believe me when I say there's no need."

Stunned, I countered, "No need? What do you mean there's no need?" How could there be no need for a dream? I didn't understand it.

Shaking his head yet again, this time out of his own amusement, Eren murmured, "What I mean is, my dream has already become a reality, and by you no less."

Okay, now I was confused. How could I have possibly helped him fulfill a dream that I didn't even know I was fulfilling? None of it made any tangible sense.

But just when I'd been on the brink of begging him for clarification, Eren eased himself forward. As he pressed a precious peck against the side of my face, he said the words I'd been waiting to hear ever since he'd left me hanging, standing alone on the unpaved gravel of the shop's parking lot.

"My dream wasn't dramatic like yours, Levi. My dream was simple, but it was also a bit complex. It was something that had the potential to happen, yet I never believed that it would. Have any guesses?"

And for the life of me, I hadn't the slightest clue.

Shaking his head for the third time, not out of negativity, and not out of amusement like before, but out of disbelief for my lack of understanding, Eren took his time, taking my hand into one of his own. He made it a point to stroke each of my knuckles, smoothing his fingertips over tattooed skin, as he softly whispered the answer to a long-time mystery, the musing of an idea that had finally been solved.

"My dream had been to fall in love again, Levi. To fall in love with someone like you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> This chapter sure packed a punch on my schedule, but I'm glad to be back and to be bringing these final few chapters to you! I estimate about one or two more chapters of actually story content, followed by a brief epilogue. (:
> 
> Before I go off rambling forever, I just really wanted to take a moment to thank all of you who have been so dedicated in reading this fanfic. And for those of you who take the time to leave me comments and reviews every week, you truly hold a special place that's near and dear to my heart, so thank you. Thank you all so, so much! I really do appreciate each and every one of you. (:
> 
> And with that being said, as always, thank you for taking the time to read! I honestly can't thank you enough!
> 
> \- Chappy


	31. Spectrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confidence and pride was never enough assurance for anything.

There is both a simplicity and a complexity to the act of falling in love. The falling? That's the simple part. It's the "love" that burdens a complexity unlike anything ever known before. Such is the same with grief. A span of sophisticated stages - from denial to acceptance - come along with an unrelenting emotion like love. Denial is an excuse of innocence; acceptance is a method of maturity. And while each stage is different for everyone, lasting for different longevities, these stages are constructed of segments both denied and accepted, simple and complex.

And I'm confident when I say that my relationship with Eren started off in some of the very same ways.

While I can't speak for him, I know that for myself, falling in love with Eren was easy. All I had to do was paint a few passionate pictures and I knew that I was screwed. It's what we  _became_ that makes us complex. Our "formal" relationship - and I say formal very loosely - melted into something more when we began to open up to one another, when we allowed each other to see within. We sparked fires in the darkest parts of our minds, sharing the thoughts and the feelings that we once kept hidden from the world. Yet, why did we trust each other so much? At first, I had convinced myself that it had to have been out of empathy, possibly even pity. I realize now that such a silly ideology couldn't be true even if I wanted it to be.

Eren and I trusted each other not because we pitied one another, but because we  _understood_ one another. We both understood what it feels like to harbor a hollow heart, and the horrible pain the comes along with enlightening something so empty. We understood how it felt to carry on the heavy questions that always seemed to place the blame on the victim and not the victor. What did I do wrong? What could I have done better? When did he stop loving me? Why did I fall in love with him?

And while I could overanalyze the workings and the definitions that labeled our relationship a "relationship" for hours on end, I would only ever understand  _my_  pieces of the puzzle. It was in that moment that I realized how deep my desires had become to hear more about "us" from Eren's perspective, for I could never really remember a time when he had told me such a tale.

I wanted to see the other half. I wanted to piece together a finish to our puzzle. I wanted Eren to tell me how and why he had fallen in love with me.

His fingers had been aimlessly gliding back and forth between knuckle to knuckle, circling delicate swirls against my skin. While his touches remained aimless, almost automatic, I'd been paying careful attention to them, mapping out each motion that his fingers made. I'm not sure how long it had been since either of us had said anything, but seeing as the silence was starting to hold a weight to it, I figured it was time for me to speak up.

"That was your dream, Eren?" I wondered, lifting my gaze. Just as Eren's intentions had been aimless, I didn't realize that I had been just as aimlessly staring at our hovering hands."To fall in love again?"

"Yeah..." he admitted, a bit bashfully at that. "It's kind of silly compared to a dream like yours, isn't it?"

Um, what was Eren saying? If anything, my dream was the silly one.

"I don't think it's silly at all." Earnest and honest as I continued to speak, I said, "It's natural to have dreams about love. I mean, just think about it; how many fairytales out there are based off of the notion of having a charming prince coming to sweep his perfect princess off of her feet?"

Eren scoffed. "Are you calling me a princess?"

"That's not what I meant."

Just as I was about to continue my statement with what I  _did_ mean, Eren disregarded any further comments from my mouth by shaking his head at me. "I know, I know," he said, speaking with mild amusement. "I know what you meant, Levi. I was just kidding."

I saw him pause for a moment, suddenly pensive. It seemed as if he wanted to say something else, but the words had somehow managed to get caught up in his throat. I would have questioned him, but yet again, just as I was about to speak, Eren had ultimately untied his tongue.

"You know, Levi," he started off slowly, still thoughtful, "there was more to my dream than just falling in love."

Of course there was more to it than just that. Eren's dream had been to fall in love  _again_ , something that isn't as simple - there's that word again - to do, and with good reason. Still, I felt like Eren wasn't clarifying himself completely, and so I asked, "What do you mean?"

As per usual, my premonitions were accurate. As Eren's fingers finally stilled against the back of my hand, it was apparent that what he was about to say held some backbone to it.

"It's..." he hesitated, "...it's kind of difficult to explain what I mean exactly, but I can try."

Inhaling softly, undoubtedly in an attempt to settle his thoughts, Eren finally boasted enough internal balance to say, "When I said I wanted to fall in love again, what I meant was that I didn't want to fall in love with just anyone, Levi. I...I wanted to fall in love with someone like  _you_. I wanted to fall in love with someone who wasn't afraid to call me annoying or to grab me by the neck and kiss me endlessly. I wanted to fall in love with someone who knows my faults and isn't shy about pointing them out, someone who can give me good advice, but knows when I need to work through my problems by myself. Just like you, I'm sure, I wanted to fall in love with someone who would give me a challenge, because God, I know that if I fell in love with you as easily as I fell in love the first time, I wouldn't feel as satisfied with having you in my life as I do."

By the end of his little speech, Eren sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Happy tears, I was certain, but tears nonetheless.

Even though we were already sitting like kids, our legs tucked into each other's, I pulled my hands out from where they were resting against my lap. Using them to cup either sides of Eren's thighs, I gave him a comforting pat, before pulling him just that much closer toward me. Eren didn't seem to mind the motion; in fact, he ended up scooting even closer after I'd give him that first, initial pull.

"Your dream ended up having more depth to it than I thought, Eren," I spoke lowly, running my hands up and down the satin-smooth material of Eren's dress pants.

He laughed briefly, softly at that. "I warned you, didn't I? A simple dream, but also one that's a bit complex."

"Simple, but complex..." I repeated thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Taking advantage of our lack of space, Eren eased himself even closer. Bearing that infamous, golden glint within his eyes, he drew his face into mine and kissed the corner of my lips. Without pulling away, he murmured, "Of course I'm right. This is my dream, after all."

Normally, a smug comment like that would have me shoving his arm or rolling my eyes at him, but after hearing Eren speak so openly about his emotions and the degrees in which I met that made him fall in love with me, I figured I could let one sly comment slide. But not without kissing him back, of course.

Okay, "kiss" probably isn't the proper term to describe what I did. If anything, I gave him more of a bite.

As my teeth tugged against his lower lip, feeling it curl with approval beneath my pull, I could hardly fathom just how much the both of us - adults by legality and by law - were acting like a pair of horny teenagers who were falling in love for the very first time. Is it even possible to fall in love again, when you've already fallen for a person once? It's possible, that is, only if the two of you are willing to help the other stand.

Playing with Eren's lips in a way that was relatively new, but surprisingly exciting, he encouraged me to continue whatever the Hell it was that I was doing, because apparently, and I quote, it felt "damn good." Hearing him whine at the bites that were just a bit too hard gave me the incentive to lap my tongue lovingly and lustfully over hi lips, always earning a shuddered response on Eren's part. "Is that nice?" I breathed, a question that I was more than confident I knew the answer to.

Breathless himself, Eren was able to utter an airy, "Yeah..." before suggesting that I continue. Ah, the testosterone of youth. How it's always so honest with its desires.

However, just as I was about to enchant Eren's lips with another little nibble, the sound of hard plastic buzzing against the solid, linoleum tiles we were sitting on gave the both of us a small start.

I could only imagine that such a horrendous sound had to have come from a cell phone's vibration setting, and when I noticed Eren distastefully reaching into his back pocket to retrieve his mobile device, my deductive reasoning skills had only proved to be accurate yet again.

Unlocking his display screen and typing in his password, Eren scrolled through his phone until he opened up his messaging application. Sifting through his new messages, he blinked in surprise when he realized who his newest message was from. "It's Armin," he said, letting me know, as well.

"What did he say?" I figured if Eren was willing to tell me who was texting him, he wouldn't mind telling me the details of their conversation, either.

Bringing his cell phone closer to his face to read the small print, he paraphrased the message by saying, "He said that they just announced that the Bizarre is going to be ending soon, and that the award ceremonies are going to be taking place shortly after that. He also said that people are already crowding around the area where the winners are going to be announced, and advises us to come back quickly."

From what I could tell, Armin was a clever kid. If he was telling us to get a move on, then we'd better get a move on.

Giving Eren's thigh a final squeeze, before we both made the terribly taxing attempt to stand, I had to wonder, "Are you nervous, Eren?" Not only did Eren's future as a photographer potentially rely on this opportunity, so did all of the hours of planning, hard work, and dedication that he had placed into his project. I could only hope that my painting piece in his mastery wouldn't get him disqualified; although, Eren knew the rules of the Bizarre better than I did. If there was no written regulation against getting outside help, then I couldn't see why my added sceneries of the spectrum would cause him to be penalized.

Obviously feigning the composed look on his face, Eren held his head with pride as he stuffed his cell phone back into his pocket. I could see right through his facade. His fingers were shaking. "Nervous about what?"

"Winning."

I wasn't sure if my answer had come across as blatantly honest or brutally rude, but Eren didn't seem to see a single negative aspect to it. In fact, he answered my statement just as simply as if I had asked him about the weather. "I mean, I'm a little nervous, I guess, but it's not going to devastate me if I lose, you know? I've gotten photography gigs without an internship before, and I'm sure I'll be able to snag some more."

There we go. That was the self-esteem that I liked to see. Certainly, it was the same esteem that I considered to be one of Eren's more irritating qualities when we first met - and don't get me wrong, it was still irritating at times - but during a moment like this, seeing that independence, that self-drive that got him his career in the first place, was just as inspirational as it was nostalgic.

Honestly, whenever Eren was acting like this, I couldn't help but see the reflection of the younger man I had once been, a man motivated by a passion to succeed, a drive to prove the world wrong. But I had already done it. I had already succeeded. Now it was Eren's turn.

It wasn't until we were walking back to the gallery that I realized how far away we had actually ventured away from it. The sounds of silence and shoes scuffs were all that could be heard as we walked, but I could bet anything that Eren was hearing much more than I was. The bounds of a beating heart, the symphonies of swirling thoughts. Nerves were nerves, even if they were miniscule in comparison to Eren's confidence.

Rounding the corner to what I expected to be the same, silent art gallery from before, it was kind of surprising to see how lively the place had become in our absence. Maybe it was because the Bizarre was reaching its end, or maybe it was because everyone was already gathering around to hear the results, it didn't change the fact that it was still a bit strange to see.

"Everyone's kind of tense, huh?" Eren spoke in question, probably rhetorically. He had started to survey the series of serious faces, just as I was.

"Rightfully so, right? Everyone in the photography department are probably shaking in their shoes after seeing your work."

Eren gave me a shove on the shoulder. "Ugh, shut up."

"I don't think so. You gave this project your all, and everyone damn well knows it. I may be a bit biased here- no, screw that. I'm not biased at all. Even if I had no freaking clue who you were or what you were trying to accomplish, if I was someone looking for interns to recruit, I can honestly say that after seeing a display like yours, I'd want you to be my underling."

Eren blinked once, then twice, before my words seemed to have sunken in. He should have known by now that I don't flatter; I say it like it is. So, if I was saying that Eren deserved this chance more than anyone else in this room, he better well believe that I meant it. And luckily, I could see it that he did.

As we began to navigate our way through the crowd, soon enough, we heard a high-pitched, friendly voice calling out to us. "Hey! Eren, Levi! Come over here!"

Using his height to his advantage - damn kids and their random growth spurts these days - Eren was able to easily track down where that voice had been coming from. Seeing that it was Armin who was waving us over from beyond the sea of semi-formal attire (I'm sorry, but the whole "semi-formal" thing will never cease to amuse me), he waved back.

"Come on," Eren said curtly, grabbing my arm in the process. Guiding ourselves past person after person until we were finally reunited with Eren's friend, I could see a look of relief wash over Armin's face when he saw that we had made it back to the gallery in time.

"They just finished tallying up all of the thumb tacks," he informed us, before pointing toward the crowd's heaviest cluster of people. "Over there is where they making the postings of who came in first place from each category. Everyone's basically going bonkers trying to find out who won."

Folding my arms, curiosity ended up getting the better of me. "And how many categories are there?"

"Six." Unknowingly, both Armin and Eren had answered at the same time, but it was Armin who continued the statement by listening off each of the categories. "Painting, photography, sculpting, drawing, modeling, and design."

Commenting off-handedly, as I continued to observe the crowd, I said, "That's a rather vast range of talent."

"Isn't it?" Armin agreed. "It's almost hard to believe that six students from our school are going to be able to pursue their dreams." With bated breath and a giddy grin on his face, Armin excitedly reached forward in an effort to grab a hold of Eren's hands. "Eren, I just know that you're going to win this. How could you not, right? Your entry had so many thumbtacks beneath it, there would have to be some sort of mistake if this win was stripped from you."

Eren laughed lightly at his friend's encouragement, but it was obvious that he was only laughing to be poliet. "Thank you, Armin, that's nice of you to say. Just don't go tearing down the place if I don't win, okay?"

"I wouldn't have to. Levi's already got that covered, right?"

A raised eyebrow soon became a shrug, followed by the shake of a head. "Nah, not interested. There's nothing worse than a sore loser, and besides, Eren's already certain of himself that he doesn't need this win to make it big, and I'd rather support him on that philosophy."

Armin seemed a bit shocked by my response, leading me to believe that Eren must have not been as open with him as he was with me when it came to the conversation of his future career plans. Settling for what I'd said, however, Armin nodded his head in agreement. "You're right. The both of you are right. No matter what happens here, Eren's going to become a famous photographer someday. Nothing can change that."

When we all heard a sudden shout, followed by a round of roaring applause, our attention was quickly drawn back to the crowd again. "Someone must have won," Eren said, saying what all three of us were thinking. "Come on. We'd better go and get a better look for ourselves."

With Armin and I following Eren's lead, we managed to make our way through a few rows of people, just barely close enough to make out the postings of the categories, along with the name of the artist who had just won.

"Sculpting: Audrey Blanche," Armin read aloud, just in case the people standing behind us couldn't see it for themselves. "She was the artist who made that owl sculpture. You know, the one where its wings were all spread out and stuff?"

I could recall seeing that sculpture in passing, but I'd been so determined to find Eren in the first place that I didn't pay very much attention to it at the time. Ah, well, kudos to her, I suppose.

The next category posted on the wall was drawing, with photography listed after it. As we and the rest of the crowd waited to see the the name of who had won, I could hear Eren inhale sharply, before letting out a slow, heavy breath.

"Hey," I whispered, giving him a nudge with my arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Eren answered a bit too quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Just as he was finished speaking, the name of the artist who had won the drawing category was posted onto the wall: Ronald Murphy. I couldn't remember what he had drawn, and even though Armin had begun to busily explaining his piece of work, I wasn't paying attention. Eren was my biggest concern, claiming all of my focus.

Like anyone in their right mind, it was only natural for Eren's nerves to start accelerating now that he had reached the end of the line. This was it, after all. Within the next minute, he would find out whether or not he had won, whether or not  _my dream_  had been enough to fulfill one of his. And for the love of God, I hoped that it was.

I debated what I did next before actually doing it, but before I could give the gesture too much thought, I reached for Eren's hand and gave his fingers a gentle tug. Before I knew it, his hand was in mine, and just the notion of that alone pushed me into giving him a little squeeze of assurance. No matter what, everything would be fine. Eren had been saying the same thing all along. Hopefully the meaning behind those words would remain stagnant after the results were revealed.

When the woman who had been responsible for posting the first two winners came back onto the stage, I felt Eren's fingers fidget within my grasp. I'd said it before, but I'd say it again: this was it. As soon as that woman pulled herself away from the wall, we would see who the winner was. That alone was enough to stop me from blinking. I couldn't miss it, not even for a second. I had to see who had won.

Never mind. I didn't want to see it anymore.

I wasn't sure whose name had been posted beneath the photography category, but all I knew was that it wasn't Eren's.

Even after all of the reassurance, the confidence and the pride that Eren had posed in his project, I could physically feel the disappointment in his disposition. He was sad, maybe even a little heartbroken, but he was strong. A sigh and a single shake of his head was all that it took for him to pull himself back together again, and damn it, I was so proud of him. Even I don't think that I would have been able to respond that nobly after a loss like this, not when I was his age. I wouldn't have put up a fuss, but Hell, I wouldn't have been able to smile about it like he was.

"Oh, well," he said, with a shrug. "You can't win everything, I suppose."

Even though Eren was acting strong enough for all three of us, I could tell that he wanted to leave. Knowing that he wouldn't have the guts to make the suggestion himself, I did it for him.

"Let's get out of here," I said, extending the offer to Armin, as well. He politely declined, shamefully admitting that he wanted to see the rest of the winners. Eren understood, and as we were about to start heading through the crowd to find our way out, Armin grabbed Eren by the arm and pulled him in for an empathetic hug. The friendly gesture was a bit awkward, seeing as Eren's hand was still linked with mine, but he managed to make it work somehow. With only a few words of parting, Armin eventually let go of his friend and we were back to pushing our way through people.

Damn it. Just, damn it. It was during moments like this that I didn't even know what to say, and yet, I had to imagine that saying nothing at all would probably be for the best. Even so, the silence was suffocating and I needed bring some words to the surface.

However, surprisingly enough, Eren ended up beating me to the chase and spoke first.

"I want to see it one more time," he said. It took me a second to realize what he'd been referring to, but it was that one second of confusion that had him clarifying, "I want to see our pictures just one more time."

I didn't say a word; I only nodded. The silent interaction on my part felt somber, but I almost felt like Eren preferred it that way. To say something out of sympathy would have only mad things worse, and obviously, neither one of us wanted to do that.

It would be a lie to say that a shroud of remorse hadn't masked the masterpiece as we came upon it. There was almost a sense of regret, as well, but maybe that was just me. Eren only seemed to be holding onto the remorseful aspect, because he said, "You know, I don't regret doing all of this for a second, Levi. Not even a millisecond."

"No?" It was the first time I'd spoken, since I'd made the suggestion that we leave.

"No," he repeated. "I mean, how could I? This project, it was  _awesome_ to work on. I honestly can't remember that last time I'd had as much fun taking pictures as I did, when I knew that I was doing it for you. Seriously, screw winning the Bizzare, and screw feeling mopy about it. I managed to make your dream a reality, as you did with mine. Because of that, I feel like more of a winner than a stupid piece of paper, an internship, and some money would ever make me feel."

"That's the kind of sportsmanship I like to hear out of young ones like you."

Eren and I were lucky we didn't end up with whiplash, from how quickly the both of us had turned around. Unbeknownst to either of our knowledge, a man dressed rather formally for the "semi-formal" dress code had approached Eren's exhibit, observing it from afar. His statement had clearly been spoken to Eren, a statement he followed up by saying, "I take it you're the artist behind this piece? Eren Yeager, correct?"

Stunned to silence, Eren had to shove his words out of his throat, before he could say, "Yes, sir. That's me."

"I thought so." As he spoke, the man began to approach Eren, while also reaching into his breast pocket for what I assumed was a business card of his - I'd seen the movies. I knew how events like this one played out. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Connie Springer, and I'm part owner of the Springer & Braus Modeling Agency up in Albany. I've been looking around at all of the photography exhibits here in this gallery, and after seeing your work, I have to say, I'm impressed."

Eren and I shared glances, as we waited for him to continue. "Even though our agency isn't currently looking for new photographers to take pictures of our models, we are looking for new talent, talent like you who would be willing to undergo an internship with us. I feel like your insight on photography could not only be enhanced by our trained professionals, but you may very well end up with a career as a full-time, freelance photographer in less than a year, if you choose to seek out other opportunities after completing an internship with our agency."

Handing Eren his business card, Connie Springer turned his attention toward me only for a second, before concluding his one-way conversation with one last bit of information. "All of my contacts and personal phone numbers are on that card, so if you feel like taking me up on this offer, my business partner and I would love to have you. I hate to cut things short, but I need to meet with the winner of the modeling category, as he or she will also be interning with us come the new year."

Giving Eren a cordial pat on his shoulder, Connie thanked him for his time and turned to head back toward the crowd, already raging with applause yet again.

Wow. That was unexpected.

Eren had already been in the "acceptance" stage of his grief, and yet, here he was, being offered the opportunity he'd deserved all along. It's funny how life has a way of working itself out sometimes, I suppose.

"I...can't believe that just happened," he finally said, after some time of simply staring at the business card within his hands. "That man, he just...he just offered me an internship."

Congratulations were in Eren's order, of course, but before I could properly give him my praise, it only felt right to ask him something first. "You're going to accept his offer, aren't you?"

Even though the night had proved to be filled with one unexpected event after the other, I felt that I could confidently count on Eren's answer being an all-around, astounding yes. That's why, when he shook his head and stuffed the card into the back pocket of his dress pants, I had to question whether or not anything made sense anymore.

"I'm not," Eren said, so certainly that I was left dumbfounded. "No, I'm not going to accept his offer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> And what do you know! It just wouldn't have been right of me if I didn't leave the second to last chapter of this story on a cliffhanger! Which means that if the realization hasn't hit you yet, the next chapter of this fanfic will be the last chapter. It's so hard for me to believe, it really is.
> 
> Ah, but don't fret! You all still have the epilogue to look forward to! (:
> 
> Seeing as the last chapter is where I like to formally wrap everything up in these author notes, I'll save all of my elongated thank-yous for next week!
> 
> But until then, as always, thank you for taking the time to read! I always, always appreciate it!
> 
> \- Chappy
> 
> P.S. And remember! I do have a tumblr account, so if you'd like to follow me to stay updated with things that I'm working on, my URL kairixxxsora16. (:


	32. Sunset, Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was my beginning, and I was his end. He was my sunrise, and I was his sunset.

Why?

It's a question that can be asked of literally anything. Why is the sky blue? Why do birds fly? Why didn't I eat breakfast this morning? Why am I suddenly so hungry? The point is that "why" can be the defining factor of analysis, or it can be the absolute ulterior of annoyance. In Eren's case, I don't even know what I would classify the "why" as, the "why" that I was about to ask him. When something doesn't make sense, you'd figure that a why-based would pose analysis; but with Eren, analysis never came along without a hint of annoyance and a whole lot of confusion.

"Why?" I wondered, all of my per mentioned emotions evident in my tone. "Why aren't you going to accept his offer, Eren? If you ask me, it sounds like a damn good one."

I watched him, slow and stoic, as he shook his head in amused agreement. "Oh, no," he began softly, "you're right about that. His offer was  _incredible_. It's...it's like one of those things that you can't believe is actually happening, almost like a dream, but...it wasn't for me. I mean, it  _was_. Obviously the offer was for me, but it wasn't for  _me_ , you know?"

"No, I don't." And I didn't. As usual, Eren was making very little sense.

Sighing, he slipped his hands into the back pockets of his dress pants and turned on his heel toward the wall, the wall where all of his hard work was displayed before him in bright, magnificent majesty. He looked pensive, more so than I'd even seen him before. While his expression seemed strange to me, I felt like it was the only thing that actually made at least a remote amount of sense during this dumbfounding conversation.

"I guess," he spoke up, still thoughtful, "I guess if he would have made me that offer, say...thirty minutes ago, I would have accepted it."

"What?"

"Tonight's been weird," Eren laughed lightly. "One might even call it...a bit bizarre."

I rolled my eyes, as I started toward him. "Haha, very funny, Eren. But seriously, keep talking. Tell me why you changed your mind all of a sudden."

Eren shook his head. He spared me a quick glance, before he continued to explain himself. "It's not as sudden as it probably seems, Levi. Granted, thirty minutes isn't that much time, but it's a bit more than that."

Eren knew by now that I wasn't the type of person to just accept a half-hearted answer like that, so I didn't even bother to ask for a better explanation. He knew that I wanted one, and I could see that he was already getting ready to come clean.

"This is probably going to sound  _really_ stupid," he admitted, almost as if he were ashamed of the impending truth. "Like, I know that you already think I'm an idiot, but this is potentially the most idiotic thing that you will ever hear me say, but just hear me out, okay?" Oh, believe me. I was all ears.

"Okay," I agreed with ease. "Go ahead."

Inhaling another heavy breath, Eren lowered his head and rested his hand against the back of his neck. Was what he was about to say really that nerve-inducing? After lifting his head, he finally began to speak up again.

"I'm not sure if you've realized this, but I've been watching you, Levi. Closely. Closer than you probably even realize. I've watched how you've interacted with costumers, and how you've always had to clean and close up your shop at the end of your shift. I've watched how you've had to handle someone like me, someone who you would have turned away if you hadn't been provoked, or inspired, or whatever it was that drew you to me. Levi, I've watched you  _work_. I've watched you have to struggle to get to where you are, and even though I wasn't there to see the journey that led you there, I was there to see the results."

I wanted to say that what Eren was telling me was starting to clear up my confusions, but it really wasn't. So what if he had seen me working my ass off at my shop? What did any of that have to do with him? Why was he suddenly so impressed by the amount of time and effort that came along with owning a tattoo shop? There had to be more that he wasn't telling me, and so I continued to listen. Luckily, I was right, because after a few, short moments of a breather, Eren picked right back up from where he'd left off.

"You're probably still having trouble understanding what I'm trying to get at here, so I'll do my best to let you see inside of my crazy head. What this all boils down to is that...I  _admire_ you, Levi. I admire how far you've come and how you managed to get there on your own. I admire how you didn't have a safety net to fall back on, but that didn't stop you from racing toward your goal. To get where you are today, you had to  _work_ for it. You didn't have an internship, and only a handful of people supported you with what you do..."

I had every intention of stopping Eren right there, to lecture him on the importance of an internship and how it wouldn't be the "cop-out" that he was making it out to be, but Eren had never been one to keep his mouth shut for long. He spoke up again, and what he said next left me tongue-tied, stunned into a silence unlike ever before.

"Being a professional photographer has been a dream of mine ever since I learned how to hold a camera. I was the person people came to when they wanted their picture taken at a party, and I was the person people referred to as 'the kid with the camera glued to his hands'. Call me narcissistic, but after all of the reassurance you've given me this evening, I feel like I don't even need an internship anymore. I feel like I can just be myself and I don't want to give that up, Levi. I don't want to give up my individuality or my self-satisfaction for a label and a sense of security. You said it yourself that you don't believe in labels, and I've come to realize that I'm starting to have less of a reliance on them, too."

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Eren turned toward me and matched my moonlit gaze with his sunrise eyes. While his sudden shift of attention had been unexpected, I couldn't deny that his look was lighter, considerably less pensive, and completely converted into something smothered in love. "Levi, if I'm going to become a professional photographer, I want to work for it and earn it myself. I want people to remember  _my_ name, not the name of the agency that I worked for. While I'm flattered and completely humbled to have been given such an amazing offer, I don't want something as special as my life's dream to be handed to me, and I don't want it to come easy. If I was someone who appreciated easy...I wouldn't have you, would I?"

There were so many things that I could argue, so many points that I could make that would combat with Eren's ideology, but I refrained. I held back my words and I kept my lips sealed. Even if I didn't completely agree with it, this was Eren's reasoning, and something told me that nothing I did or said would chance his mind. When had it ever, really?

With a click of the tongue and a shake of my head, I showed Eren a skeptical smile as I tried to come up with a response that was equally as deep and as insightful as the sentimental speech he'd just laid on me. Soon realizing that I'd never be able to achieve such a feat, I gave in and simply said, "You know, Eren... You're really something."

Certain of himself, he folded his arms and shot me a quick nod. "And you wouldn't have it any other way, right?"

As much as I hated to admit it, and as much as I wanted to disagree with him for the sheer satisfaction of proving him wrong, I couldn't. I couldn't, because he  _was_  right. Eren was...different. He was spontaneous, yet surprisingly reserved at times. He was loud in both his voice and his fashion choice, and he was the complete opposite of everything I'd thought I could ever love.

So, yeah. He was right. Eren was Eren - he was all of those things and more - and I honestly wouldn't have had it any other way.

 

* * *

 

Keeping true to my initial suggestion, Eren and I left the Bizarre shortly after his encounter with the man from the modeling agency. I'd half expected Eren to scout him out and turn down his offer right off the bat, but he assured me that he would call him sometime in the near future to do just that. That's the terminology he'd used, too. "In the near future." It made him sound all grown-up and whatnot, and I was honestly a bit taken aback by it. Ah, but I digress. Tonight had been quite the night, and Eren wasn't the only one who was excited to get the Hell out of there.

Both feeling a bit peckish, but not hungry enough to actually sit down at a restaurant, I offered to take Eren back to my place, where we could grab some gallons of our favourite ice cream flavors along the way and simply shovel down spoonfuls of the sugary treat to our heart's content. As expected, Eren jumped on an offer like that faster than he'd jumped into the passenger's seat of my car.

As we drove toward my apartment, Eren mindlessly flipped through the stations on the radio to find something that would soothe his eccentric taste in music, but with little luck. To his amusement, he found that when he switched on the CD option, likely expecting nothing more than silence, he'd heard the familiar track of tunes that he'd allowed me to borrow some few weeks ago.

"Like my music, huh?" he chuckled, turning up the volume dial considerably.

Reaching over to turn the dial back down, I sighed and shook my head. I wasn't ashamed to admit that the kid liked some pretty interesting music, music that I was starting to like myself, but he was already floating on such a high after everything that had happened tonight that I figured I'd better not inflate his clouded ego any more. "It's alright," I stated simply, and left it at that.

The majority of the drive back to my apartment felt normal, comfortable. Eren and I chatted in small intervals, him being the one to start off most of the conversations. However, after we'd picked up our ice cream and pulled out of the convenience store's parking lot, a familiar feeling, both welcomed and spurned, began to prickle to the surface of my skin. That feeling was a need; an  _itch_.

I had to laugh to myself, as I flipped on my turn signal and slowed to a stop. I was held at bay by my emotions and by a red light, and while I would have much rather pressed on the gas pedal and raced home to the one place where I could be alone with my creativity and my canvases, I knew that such a desire was no longer within my reach. Not only was I nearly ten minutes away from my apartment, but I wasn't alone, and I wasn't going to  _be_ alone. Eren was with me. He was seated right by my side, his fingers tapping against his lap, his head bopping along to the beat. Huh. So much for our ice cream date plans. It was unbeknownst to him now, but the moment we stepped through that door, Eren would see a side of me that he had never seen before.

If Eren claimed that he loved to watch me work, I can only wonder how he would react if he saw me paint, observing how the colors of my creation smoothed down my arms and coated my fingertips, collecting in chunks beneath my nails. I had to bite my lip for the rest of the drive.

Eren didn't seem to pay much notice to my subtle silence. He was too busy being lost in his own thoughts to bother with mine. Good. I preferred it that way. I'd rather  _show_  him how wild my mind gets when it's itching to paint than having him try to pry into it beforehand. Just wait. It'll be worth it in the end.

After pulling into my designated, although not specifically specified, parking spot, I twisted the key out of the ignition and was the first to unbuckle myself and slip out of the car. Eren made a weird face when he caught wind of my haste, but he chose not to comment on it. For all he knew, I could have just really needed to use the bathroom.

Walking through the main entrance of the complex and heading up a few flights of stairs, it was down the long stretch of hallway we went. I could tell with the way that Eren hung a few steps behind me that he was captivated by all of the Christmas decorations that were strung about the walls in various places. Again, he made no comment, but it was as plain as day that seeing so many wreaths and red and green lights made him excited.

Stopping at the door to my corner studio, I reached into my blazer's front pocket and pulled out my key. Before Eren could even utter a word, I'd ushered him inside, ordered him to make himself at home, and headed straight for the small shelf where I kept all of my painting supplies.

Now it was Eren's turn to be the dumbfounded one. As he slipped out of his own blazer, hanging it on the back of one of the bar chairs, he eyed me with a look of perplexity as he tried to decipher what I was doing. "Uh, Levi? Where are you going?"

"No where," I answered simply, thoughtlessly. "I'm right over here."

Pointing out the flaw in my response, Eren retorted, "Actually, you're over  _there._   _I'm_  over here. Seriously, Levi, what are you doing?"

Pulling out my paints with a rough tug, the sound of the small  _clinks_  that chimed from the jar glasses as they tapped against each other were like symphonies to my ears. Closing my eyes and letting my fingertips find the color they wanted to paint with the most, it was with a blind persistence that I pulled out a jar that was filled to the brim with bright yellow. It's funny how seeing a color like that  _now_  brought back such fond memories when, at the time, my feelings had only been filled with disgust.

Figuring I'd left Eren waiting on an answer for too long, I turned to him, and with a tone as persistent as my passionate color-picking had been, I said, "I need to paint."

There was a furrow within Eren's brow, when he first heard me say such a thing. My spontaneous bursts of artistic need were no secret to him. I'm sure he remembered seeing those speckles of purple paint that dotted the floorboards for the first time, the aftermath of a night when I'd painted a portrait him and bore no recollection of the act itself. He knew of my urges from the description I'd given him on the night of our "first" date, and how hard it was for me to control them. After coming to terms with all of these thoughts, I was actually able to see when insanity became sense within his head.

With a face that smoothed into softer features and looser brows, Eren nodded understandingly and moved to put the bag of the ice creams we'd bought in the freezer. Passing the torch of confusion back over to me, I was forced to question, "Eren, what are you doing? Aren't you going to eat it?"

"I will," he said, nodding again, "but not right now. I want to watch you paint."

_I want to watch you paint._

Hearing that had been both a blessing and a curse, because while I would have adored to show Eren first-hand how chaotic my creativity became whenever I was fully enveloped by my thoughts, I had never painted this openly in front of anyone before; not even Hanji. For me, painting out my innermost desires was akin to someone else's method of self-pleasure, and it was something I'd only ever done solely in private.

Well, this was going to be an interesting experience for the both of us, I suppose.

Listening to the sound of Eren's socked footsteps as he slowly rounded the bar and entered the den, I heard him sigh softly as he took a seat next to me. Not only did I have the pleasure of knowing that Eren was watching my every move, but now I had the added pressure of him breathing down my neck as I painted.

"Am I too close?" he asked, probably because my fingers had begun to shake as they unscrewed the lid of the paint jar.

I wanted to say yes. "Not at all," was what I'd actually said.

"Okay. Let me know if you want me to move back a bit, though."

Well, that was reassuring. At least he was being polite about my personal space.

With the lid off of the jar and my fingers already dipping into the smooth, almost slimy texture of the acrylic, I quickly grabbed onto one of the nearby canvases - clean of all impurities - and began to saturate it with the serenades of my mind.

This went on for minutes, or maybe it went on for hours; I wasn't counting - I never did - and neither was Eren. As I continued to reach for different jars, shoving in fingers by the fistfuls in order to extract their excellency, Eren simply sat by my side, quietly observing the chaos with little to no commentary. Actually, he might have been talking more than I'd realized, because when I'd finally felt satisfied with what I'd created, he was looking just as worn out as I felt.

It was no surprise when he was the first to speak between the both of us; however, what he'd said  _was_ a suprise.

"It's a sunset."

Unable to utter anything other than a rather pathetic "huh?", I watched Eren as he pointed his forefinger at the canvas that rested against my lap and repeated, "It's a sunset. You painted a sunset, Levi."

Well, that was news to me. Typically, whenever I started painting in an emotion-based state of mind, it wasn't until after I'd finished what I was working on that I would be able to see what I had actually painted.

How...interesting.

For months, I'd struggled with the ability to paint something other than Eren, or at least something that wasn't even remotely relatable to him. I'd never been able to do it. All my fingers wanted to do were to paint out those perfectly proportioned cheek bones, and to outline those pale and plump lips of his. They craved to recreate the beauty that he boasted in his thick eyebrows, as well as the serenity that shined through his eyes. His amber eyes. His  _sunrise_  eyes.

And then it hit me. Without even realizing it, I'd managed to come full circle.

It's the sunrise that starts the day. Its rays are bright and full of light, illuminating the way for weary wanderers, pulling sleepy people out of their dormancy. As the day progresses, we seem to forget that it was the rising sun that coaxed us to rise as well. But then, before we know it, we see the sunset. Softer, more saturated, and filled with an impact of intimacy that is unlike the wakeful, energetic nature of the sunrise. And just like that, the day ends and the sun descends, only to have its rise and set replicated by its celestial sister, the moon.

Eren was my sunrise, and I was his sunset.

He was the start of something new, something unlike I had ever imagined in my wildest of dreams. Annoying and persistent, like the piercing rays of the rising sun, he showed me a world where I learned to let go of my morals and embrace what it meant to act on a whim. When would I ever rush out to eat ice cream at ten o' clock in the evening just to console someone? Or let someone cry on my shoulder for hours over someone I had never even met? Hell, half of the things that I did with and for Eren I would never even do for Hanji; I would never even do them for  _myself_. And so, it's without a doubt when I say that Eren was my sunrise, my beginning, and I was his sunset, his end.

I was the end to his pain. I was the end to the sordid sight of a tattoo that tainted his skin, a tattoo he wanted nothing more than to rid himself of forever. As egotistical as it may sound, I'm not afraid to acknowledge all of these things, and possibly even more. Without me, who knows where Eren would have been in his life right now. Perhaps he would have been in a much darker place, or perhaps he would have found another tattoo shop with another tattoo shop owner who would have been willing to remove his tattoo for him. Maybe, just maybe, Eren would have struck up a romance with said owner as well, but it's pointless to think of such things. Eren didn't go to another tattoo shop, and he didn't find romance with anyone else. He came to me, he came to my tattoo shop, and while I may not have thought so at first, I was glad that he did.

"You're right," I'd said, after a much elongated pause. It surprised me that Eren had been able to tell the difference. For all he knew, my painting could have been of a  _sunrise_ and not a  _sunset_. But no, that's not what he'd said. He'd specifically stated that what I had painted a sunset - more than once even - and needless to say, as a lover of the dusk and a warrior of the dawn, I was happy to agree with him. "It's a sunset."

In that moment, I'd turned to look at Eren. I'd expected to see him as I regularly do: childish, arrogant, and annoying. But when I looked at him, my eyes swept across his body like a subject rather than a soul. This was...a feeling that had been rather foreign to me. All of a sudden, Eren  _wasn't_  Eren. He wasn't the kid who came into my tattoo shop a few months back, and he wasn't the young man who had claimed my heart along the way. He was a  _canvas_ , a blank one at that. A canvas in need of proper painting.

"You know, Eren," I began slowly, nearly recoiling at the hint of seduction I'd heard within my own voice. "I think I've just realized something. Something important."

Obviously a bit taken aback by the sudden shift of tone, Eren returned my gaze with a look of mild concern. He later asked, "And what's that, Levi?"

Drawing closer, closer, close enough to delicately caress the side of Eren's face, I smeared an inky trail of blue down the side of his cheek, and murmured, "As you may recall, my dream was to paint the town, Eren, but I've just realized that there's still a part of it that you left out, a part that I haven't painted yet."

Sitting in front of Eren, with hardly any space in between our knees, I saw him swallow at the likely realization of what I was getting at. However, regardless of said realization, Eren's eyes narrowed and his voice remained hushed, as he continued to question, "And what part was that, Levi?"

Evident, obvious, and completely explicit by this point, it almost felt unreasonably redundant to amuse Eren with an answer. But for the sake of his sanity and for the sake of sensually, I eased my face close enough, closer to his where if he so much as breathed, our lips would have touched. And in that moment of monumental intimacy, I grabbed him by the chin and held him prey to my passions. If he wanted to hear an answer so badly, then he'd better be willing to comply with the consequences that came along with it.

"You."

One word with a world of meaning. Eren was just as much a part of the town as the buildings and the benches. He was the reason I'd started having more faith in such a ridiculous dream in the first place, and he was the reason it had become a definite reality after all. But I knew myself and I knew my body's cues. If I was to be completely satisfied with the workings of my dream, putting the frivolous fantasy finally to rest, I was going to have to paint  _all_  of the town. And by that, I knew that I was going to have to paint Eren.

Biting his lip as my grip around his jaw tightened, Eren found the only bit of humor in my claim, and had to wonder, "Was painting portraits of me not enough, Levi?"

"No."

Even I was surprised by the certainty in my voice, after stating my answer so strongly. Like Eren, I was going through a shift of mentality. Had he asked me that very same question, say, thirty minutes ago, my answer might have been drastically different. Now, however, I knew what I wanted, and I wanted it more than anything I could have ever remembered.  _I wanted to paint Eren_.

Uttering a single laugh, Eren shook his head and sighed. "You know, if you're really going to be that adamant about it, then I guess I can't really refuse."

Lifting his hand to encompass mine, he pulled it off of his chin to reveal the streak of blue-ish black that my fingers had left behind. With words as soft as the simplicity of his apparent sensuality, Eren caved into my craving, saying everything I'd been desiring to hear from him and more.

"Go ahead, Levi. Paint me."

 

* * *

 

It's difficult to remember where we began and where we ended. Clothes had been discarded early on, and tender touches soon followed. As my fingers brushed across naked places, places that my eyes were seeing for the very first time, Eren's head tipped back in an ecstasy that was just as elegant as it was erotic.

By the end of the night, there wasn't a single place that had been left untouched by my fiery fingertips. Although differing from its usual definition, one might call what Eren and I had just done an artist's way of making love. In due time, we'd stick to the regular definition and have at each other underneath the bedsheets; but for right now, I was satisfied with simply smoothing my fingers up and down the length of his spine, ravishing him in red and glossing him over in gold.

Aside from his breathy sighs and the occasional, muffled moan here and there, Eren had been exceptionally quiet throughout our "sexual" session. I couldn't say that I'd imagined something like this beforehand, but if I did, I'm pretty sure I would have pictured someone like Eren to be rather talkative during such a moment of heightened intimacy. Not that I was complaining, of course. In fact, with him sitting against me so silently, it allowed me to hear those delicate sounds of satisfaction even more; and I had to admit, I quite enjoyed them.

Ah, but all good things must come to an end eventually, I suppose.

Just as I was finished dotting Eren's shoulders with a brilliant shade of purple, I heard him speak out in what I initially thought was going to be another moan. "Mmn... Levi?"

This hadn't been the first time that Eren had said my name that night, but it  _was_  the first time he had spoken it in question. "Hm?"

Stifling another gentle moan, Eren arched his neck backward just enough in what I assumed was an attempt to rest his head against my shoulder. "Mn... I'm...I'm about to say something really stupid, but try...try to bear with me, okay?"

If I'd managed to bear with him every other time he'd said something stupid - which was  _a lot_  - then I saw no point in there being any difference in bearing with him now.

Instead of answering him with words, I worked my fingers into Eren's hips, an action that earned another, delicate mewl from his pretty little lips. Understanding that as my cue to continue, he did his best to  _compose_  himself, before he prepared to make a  _fool_ out of himself.

"I...I made a mistake, Levi. A temporary one. Although, it didn't really  _feel_  all that temporary at the time. It broke me down... It broke me down in ways that I didn't even know a person could be broken, but...you changed that. You changed me, Levi. No, wait. That's not right. I haven't changed; I've been fixed. You  _fixed_  me. You fixed me for the better, and you fixed me from my worst self. Permanently."

Of all of the things Eren could have said, he just had to go and say the one thing that would pull on my heartstrings and have me wrapping my paint-stained arms around him with mighty force.

It's as true as they say - however cheesy it may sound - how love has a way of finding you when you're not even looking for it. Had I been looking for love on the night that Eren had stumbled into my shop just before closing? No. And had I been looking for love the next day when he came back and pestered the crap out of me, in order to get me to agree to the one thing I'd swore I would never do? Hell no. But even though we weren't looking for it, and even though all of the odds didn't seem to fit with the evens, Eren had found love within me, and I had found love within him.

He had made a temporary mistake, but I became his permanent fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> And there we have it. The end of a fanfic that, as a writer, has taken me on one of the wildest rides I've ever ridden.
> 
> Never have I embarked on a journey like my journey with TMPF before. Never have I had to sit down and simply stare at a screen for hours on end to make sure that everything sounded right, and that everything made sense. Never have I received so much praise and adoration for a fanfic that was originally meant to be something light-hearted, heavily comedic, and potentially no more than ten chapters. That's right. Originally, I wanted this fanfic to be no more than ten or fifteen chapters. And look at what it's become. It's more than doubled in size, and I honestly don't think that it would have if it wasn't for all of you.
> 
> Thank you! Thank you so much to the readers who have stopped by every week to read and to leave a comment/review. Thank you to the readers who are looking at this fanfic for the very first time. Thank you to the readers who have been here from the beginning - and a special thank you to those who have carried over from reading F&F and continue to support my writing. And thank you to those who have read this fanfic all in one sitting. I know there are some of you out there, and honestly, you and the readers who have been here from the beginning are the type of readers who deserve of medal of honor for your dedication and your persistence. From the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much.
> 
> But wait! This may be the last chapter, but the story doesn't end here! (:
> 
> While I wanted to get all of my thank-yous out of the way beforehand, please don't forget that there will be short epilogue to this story posted next week, so please be sure to look forward to it!
> 
> And of course, as I say every time, thank you for taking the time to read! I will always, always appreciate it!
> 
> \- Chappy


	33. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liberty and freedom.

3 months later

* * *

 

There are certain things in life that are worth waiting for, and then there are certain things that you just want to get done and over with already. Birthdays and holidays are prime examples of which we find the most pleasure in patience, whereas exam season and essay writing makes us want to rip our hair out and roll around on the floor. And who knew that removing a tattoo could pose many of those same methods of annoyance? Never would I ever have thought such a thing until I'd met Eren, but I suppose that with confusion there is always a sliver of sense; after all, everyone wishes to erase their mistakes promptly and permanently.

The low hum of the laser gun served as a soother to the silence, as the periodic zap of corrective lighting flickered against Eren's fragile skin. To the untrained eye, one might not understand the lengths to which this courageous - and rather cocky - kid had gone to remove what looked like nothing more than a barely there, inky blemish. Oh, but he and I knew the tale behind it all, and it was as I was repeatedly running my latex-laden fingers along the natural curve of his hip that we reminisced over the memories, the good and the bad.

With a final flicker and one last swipe of the dampened cloth, I set my tools to the side and pushed the cart containing all of my equipment away from where Eren and I sat. Looking over my handiwork for one last time, I gave his leg a reassuring pat and told him to pull up his pants. "You're all done, Eren."

"Done?" Eren repeated. There was a hint of anticipation in his voice when he'd lifted his head, causing his amber eyes to meet with mine. "Like,  _done_ done? This was my last appointment, right? And you're...done?"

"All done," I said, speaking with utmost certainty. Sooner or later, I felt the need to add, "If you don't believe me, just take a look for yourself."

As I took off my gloves and flexed my fingers, Eren followed my instructions and began to lean forward. I could see him fussing and pulling at the hem of his shirt, most likely making sure that it would stay up as he surveyed his tattooed skin - or rather, the lack thereof. Awestruck and stunned speechless, there were no words that seemed to do him justice for the time being, and so, he simply continued to stare.

Hanji, on the other hand, had been mindlessly playing with the pens that were placed on the front counter. One by one, she plucked each pen out of the cup-like container that they were kept in, only to pop them back in every so often, slowly and steadily, before starting over again. However, when she'd heard that I had just finished up working on Eren, her interest had piqued and she made her way around the corner of the counter to see how I had done.

"Would you look at that!" she gasped, eyeing Eren closely. Maybe even a bit  _too_ closely, but hey, when had Hanji ever had any respect for personal space or boundaries? Never that I could remember. "It's gone! It really is all gone!"

"Of course it's gone," I said, sighing but a moment later. "Did you have any doubts?"

At that, Hanji hummed in thought and folded her arms over her chest. "Hmm, maybe a few. I mean, you  _were_  completely against the idea of doing something like this, what? Only a handful of months ago? I guess I'm just...intrigued. And definitely impressed. Good job, Levi!"

Not knowing whether to take the entirety of Hanji's statement as a compliment or as an insult, I merely shrugged her off and turned my attention back toward Eren. He'd been awfully silent ever since he'd gotten a glimpse of his bare skin, and it was starting to become bothersome. Don't tell me he was starting to have second thoughts...

"Hey," I spoke up, keeping my voice low and conversational. "You haven't said anything yet. Is everything alright?"

When I'd addressed him, Eren's eyes had lifted toward mine for only a second, before they'd dropped right back down to his abdomen. It took him a while, but when Eren had finally opened his mouth again to speak, an almost strangled sort of sound was the only thing that came out of his lips. Okay, then. Maybe it would have been better if he didn't speak at all.

As Hanji tried - and failed - to suppress a sudden onslaught of giggles, she chose to excuse herself from the room and headed for the back. Amazing. It made me wonder just how many times she'd done that in the wake of Eren's presence.

However, after clearing his throat and shaking his head, Eren apologized for sounding so stupid just then, and made amends by saying, "Everything's...more than alright, Levi. Everything right now is...it's perfect."

After hearing something like that, I couldn't help but scoff. Typically, people called tattoos perfect; not the removal of one. Then again, this  _was_  Eren, and Eren had proved himself to be an oddity on more than one occasion.

"Glad to hear it, kid."

Lifting myself from the stool I'd been sitting on for no more than ten minutes, I pulled my arms behind my head and gave them a good stretch. I'd probably never know why, but for whatever reason, working on Eren always had a habit of making me feel lethargic. I had my hypotheses that it had something to do with how he'd always fall asleep during his first few sessions with me, but I'd never know for sure. However, just remembering that, had me saying, "You know, I'm surprised you didn't fall asleep on me, Eren. You had a bad habit of doing that in the beginning."

Stretching himself, Eren gave out a light yawn before coming to his own defense. "I couldn't help myself. The clocks were just changing and it was getting darker earlier. Even school was pretty demanding at the time, so everything was just making me super sleepy." Really? That was the best excuse he had? Well, I suppose I could let it slide. After all, college students are notorious for having odd sleeping hours.

As Eren continued stretching out his arms, I'd caught a glimpse of the same tattoo that had captured my fancy from what felt like day one. Right there on his wrist, in a slate-like shade of blue, was the word that I had never known the meaning of, had always meant to inquire about, and completely forgot to research on my own terms. Finding that now was a better time than any to ask him about it, it was as he was still stretching that I said, "Hey, Eren. Can I ask you something?"

Seeming a bit surprised by my questioning tone, Eren plopped his hands into his lap and looked up at me like a puppy waiting to be praised. Damn it. Why'd he have to go an act all cute like that, all of a sudden? "Uh, sure. What is it?"

Pointing to the wrist he had concealed between his legs, I found it a bit awkward asking him something so simple, something that I probably should have  _known_ after months of dating the kid. "That tattoo that you have on your wrist. What does it mean?"

At first, Eren looked as if he hadn't the slightest clue as to what I was referring to. Not long after, he pulled his hands out from his lap and looked at the both of his wrists. That's when realization must have hit, because with a childish sense of satisfaction, Eren held his tattooed wrist up for me to see, and asked, "Oh, you mean this?"

Without saying another word, I nodded. Honestly, what else would I have meant? Sometimes, I really questioned Eren's density.

Taking his hand back into his lap and smoothing his thumb over the ink that forever stained his skin, Eren wore a soft smile as he seemed to be recounting a distant, yet pleasant memory. I almost felt inclined to ask him about it, but first thing's first - I needed to know what that tattoo meant.

"The word is 'freiheit'," Eren explained. It's a good thing he had actually pronounced it for me, because truth be told, I'd been saying it wrong in my head this whole time. "It's the German word for 'liberty' or 'freedom'."

Just hearing that caused my expression to soften, as well.

"Freedom, huh?" I repeated thoughtfully. It's funny, but just saying that left me feeling like a weight had been lifted from my chest, a weight that I didn't even know existed in the first place.

Eren was free. Free from his past and free for his future. There was nothing, not a single thing, that was going to get in his way or stop him from shooting for the stars and chasing after his dreams; and he had the tattoo - and the lack of one - to prove it.

**End.** _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chappy here!
> 
> And with that, it's with both heartache and relief that I mark this "in-progress" fanfic as complete.
> 
> Honestly, I know that I spilled my heart out to all of you in the last chapter, but I really cannot thank you enough for all of the support, uplifting words, and motivation that you have given me for more than half of a year - isn't that amazing to think about? You've been reading and I've been working on this fanfic for more than half of a year! I'm just coming to this realization now, and I couldn't feel more bless and more honored to have such dedicated readers. So really, thank you. Thank you to all of you. TMPF wouldn't be what it is today if it weren't for each and every one of you!
> 
> And it wouldn't be right if I didn't thank you like this one last time:
> 
> Thank you, as always, for taking the time to read. It's been an absolute pleasure, and I mean that with all of my heart. Thank you.
> 
> \- Chappy


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